Left Behind II: The Darkness Within
by Late to the Party
Summary: AU Novelisation of Baldur's Gate. Part 2 of 3. Reunited, the two siblings find themselves somewhere else, lost but not alone. The second part of Left Behind, written back in September 2011.
1. Awakened, part 1

Awakened

A dream. The dreamer. Emptiness. Vastness. Floating. A dream?

"Heya! Wake up, sleepyhead! It's me, Imoen!"

Imoen?

"Yer silly; have ya forgotten yer big sister?"

Where am I? Darkness. Floating.

"How ya doing? Kinda heard you screaming for a while back there."

Screaming…?

"Say, aren't you supposed to be in Candlekeep?"

Candlekeep…? So long ago.

"Yeah, it was a while… listen, I… I looked all over for you. They told me you'd disappeared… it's… my fault you're here. I led them to you. I didn't know."

Who?

The masked one, with the blue eyes. The pale one, whose gaze is death.

"Yeah, them. Listen, we gotta get out of here. What they want from us – you gotta believe me."

I never doubted you.

"I know, little brother."

How long…

"Have I known? Always, I guess. You're such a slowpoke."

How…?

"Before the dreams? It's your eyes. Same as mine."

Yours are brown…

"So?"

The feel of my hair being ruffled.

"Listen… we don't have long. He's coming back… you must hold on. Try to remember."

Remember?

"The dreams. Who you are. Who we are. We gotta hold onto it. He tries to take it. As long as we remember, he can't–"

Who am I?

"You're my brother."

Imoen…

"That's right. You remember Candlekeep? I had to leave you. Sarevok. One of us, our brother. He wanted to kill you, but he didn't know which one of us it was."

Sarevok… the Iron Throne.

"Yeah. You weren't there."

Hull… he pushed me…

"I'm so sorry. You were supposed to be safe."

We are never safe.

"I guess not." A smile; the ghost of a smile. "Hey, I love you, little brother."

I love you.


	2. Awakened, part 2

Where am I?

The darkness… the dream… a city; how did I get here? Imoen… not here right now. Must look for… something. What was it? Don't remember. A thief in the night? Yes. Caged. Must find the key. _He_ has it, the masked one. He won't give it up, never give it up. Another way… yes, pick the lock… a thief. Many thieves in a city. Masked ones, shadows… where to find? Ships. Imoen said so. Where? Docks… ships at the docks… thieves? The key. Yes. There… an apple thief. Follow him…

Where am I? Alleyways… darkness. Night. The hunters… they feed… on thieves? Why? Men… no, a mask; monsters veiled in flesh. Life stealers… like the dark one. His eyes are worse. Pale, pitiless… hers are death, black. Death. He is death; does he know it? He lacks awareness… dead inside. Drawn to death; gathers it around him; _she_ watches, waits… more alive, desperate… clinging. He feels nothing, empty inside. He does not know he is dead. Mockeries of life. Masks…

Thieves… like rats. Flee the darkness; fight the tide in the alleys, their homes. Prowl the night… losing bit by bit. Driven back… hunted. They cannot beat this foe… their darkness is lesser; darkness cannot defeat dark. Night… is less black than these… Monsters… drinkers… live for blood…

Blood.

The skull. Mocking. Silent. Always here… watching. Is it mine? I am its? Part of me. I am death…? Born of death. Darker than the hunters… It draws him, my darkness. Power. He seeks power. Death… is power. Power greater than his own. Power to fill the emptiness… his sister, the dark one, craves power, craves life. He… does not.

Floating. Unfocused. Dreams…

The thieves search for this place. For the hunter's nest. They cannot bear the light. The sun. No, more than that. They cannot stand what they once were. Living. They hate the living. Light… is life. Am I light? Do I… live? The darkness waiting within… blacker than all the hunters. They hate the light. They rule the night… do I rule the night? No. I am… something else. Something… darker. Above… this. He… he thinks himself above this. He… is wrong. He is… mortal. Less than mortal, more… but not like me. Like… us. Imoen. …Is she night? No… her life… holds darkness within, the skull, like mine. We… caged. He caged us. He wants our might.

Murder.

We are born of Murder.

He seeks to take it from us. To murder _us_.

Clarity; vision clears… power is… light? Life? Death… Murder. No. That is what the skull thinks. What the skull wants us to believe. Life… is strength. Murder… is theft. Life stealer. Without life… there is no strength, no light. Thieves… lose because they have forgotten the light. The hunters… have lost the light. He… has no light. I… we, are worse.

The skull watches.


	3. Awakened, part 3

"And _that's_ how we found ourselves in Icewind Dale!"

"Huh?" My voice? So strange to my ears…

"Yer too easy to tease." A sigh. "I've missed you, little brother."

Dreaming… again?

"I'm not little! And I've missed you too." An embrace? To… touch? Her warmth… distance. Her breath… cool. I can't feel it. Fading…

"Are too. See, I'm taller; that makes you little."

"You're wearing boots!"

"So?"

Imoen…?

"And then I stabbed him, and Jaheria killed Tazok; you should've seen her–"

Stabbed who?

"Sarevok, ya ninny! Trying to tell ya how we won the battle for Baldur's Gate–"

Baldur's Gate… the city. North of Candlekeep… our home?

"Yeah, Candlekeep was our home. It was a good home for many years, but I had to leave."

Why…?

"To protect you. Look, we've been over this. Do you want to hear about how we beat Sarevok or not?"

Sarevok…

"Yeah, him. Our brother. Big, tall, glowy eyes – tried to take over the realms, become a god."

A god…

"Yeah, our sire. Y'know, Bhaal, big bad god of murder. Got himself killed, but foresaw it and had loads kids that no one knew about? Prophesised to bring 'doom' and 'terror' – you were the swot, not me."

Bhaal… father? Sarevok… murder each other.

"Yeah, so do you remember, huh? Well, you never met Sarevok, luckily for you. He stank so bad. All that armour he wore. Well, maybe you did meet him. He studied in Candlekeep for a time; one of them visiting nobles you hated. Always turfing you out of your corner – hey, don't wander off. Stay with me."

I'm not going anywhere…

"Your mind is. So anyway, Khalid–"

Khalid?

"Jaheria's husband; they're both half elves. Do I hafta explain _everything_? Fought together, as a team, with curved swords. Real brave he was. She took on Tazok, hoo boy, you should've seen the size of _him_ ; he was _huge_ , even for an ogre…"

Ogre… Gorion?

"Yeah…" Sadness. "He felled two ogres before Sarevok ran him through. That night we left, I knew something was up. There was a warrioress there too; silent at Sarevok's side. Tamoko. So sad what happened with her. She loved him. Hey – don't look like that. Gorion loved you; he loved us both. He practically raised ya, single-handed. I… I couldn't save him. I tried… Sarevok hated him."

Why…?

"'Cause he chose you. Us."

I don't understand.

"See, Sarevok weren't just mean, he wanted to outdo everybody. I watched him die; looked into his eyes. He was afraid, little brother. Afraid of death. All he wanted was to beat it, to become it."

Why?

"So full of questions. Always were though. Well, see, Sarevok… hey, stop it. Listen to me; focus. You hafta focus. You'll drift away if ye don't. You stay with me."

Always. I promise.

"I know, an' I'll always be with you."

Forever…?

"Forever. Ain't nobody gonna part us, little brother. Not even that silly ole Bhaal. He's dead; we ain't. Gonna stay that way. You an' me."

The prophecy…

"So what what the stinkin' prophecy says? No one rules our destinies; that's what you said."

I did…?

"Yeah, right before we got captured, when we were together again. I found you, remember?"

Don't… remember…

"Hey, you're driftin' again–"

 _He_ returns…


	4. Awakened, part 4

What is a dream? A dream can mean many things… can't it?

"Hey, wake up. Gotta get ready; Ole Mister G'll get testy if ye don't."

Where am I? …Candlekeep?

"Stop playin' around, and get up! Don't you remember what day it is?"

What is today?

"Ten years since we came here! The anniversary! Look, see how the sun is shining? Not a cloud in the sky–"

The sun… how long has it been…?

"Hey, don't look like that. We got a great day ahead of us. No more dry ole books, or musty ole halls–"

She's sad I've forgotten… we're older now…

"Fine, stay in bed all day then. I'm goin' ta get breakfast. Last one there's a–"

She doesn't know? Perhaps she doesn't want to…

"Hey, c'mon, don't be such a grump; I can hear you, y'know!"

The truth…

"If you don't want to remember the good ole days, I guess I can't make ya."

You're hurting… bleeding. He… cut you?

"It's a scratch. I've had worse."

How many…

"It doesn't matter. Listen, I'm not gonna let anything happen to you–"

I can't hear this…

"Remember how happy you were when we met? I never thought I'd see you cry…"

Tears…?

"Yeah. I kinda cried too. I never thought a year would be so long; guess you didn't either."

A year…

"Bit more, but yeah. I was so surprised to see you surrounded by smelly ole gnolls; couldn't believe me eyes. And those sirines! Wow, you _did_ do well for yourself. D'you remember what we said?"

Words…

"Yeah, ya bufflehead. Words."

She poked my side? I feel… nothing.

"Dreams're strange like that. I told you how… hey, don't look so sad. We're together now. Family. You told me how you 'Don't. Need. Protection.', an' being all big and scary voiced. I said, 'Yeah, I can sure see that all right!'. I never figured _you'd_ be the one to build up an army. I thought I'd have to fight my way through a thousand gnolls to get to ya! Funny how they just… let us pass."

My friends…

"Yeah, that's what you said back then. You always were a bit odd, but befriending gnolls and sirines? That's a whole 'nother level."

You told me what happened…

"Yup. That's right. Try to remember?"

"Minsc ended up dying. Tried to protect Dynaheir; she and Sarevok's mage were battlin' like anything; you should've seen it."

Minsc… the warrior. Tattoos.

"Yeah, well, we all thought he was dead. But he wasn't. Dunno how. I guess something happened? His heart stopped; I remember how I rushed over to him, screaming… not like me to scream. Something happened."

Our essence…

"Yeah, that. You were tapping into yours a lot more than me. I never thought about it. I just did what I did. Guess I had more to do. Magic, thievin' an' stuff. You never did much of anything, except study."

I walked in dreams.

"You did that all right. You learned some nifty stuff while I was gone, like how to turn invisible."

The sirines.

"So you remember that, do you? Well, we sure could've used that army of yours. Pity the city would've attacked us on sight. Bad enough with the Flaming Fist after us."

I wanted to come…

"I know, I read your journal. Oh, maybe you don't know about that. Well, uh. So where'd I get to?"

The story…

"That's right! So we met this silly ole mage called 'Edwin'; thought he was some great wizard, 'the mighty Edwin Odesseiron'; Dynaheir hated him, but I liked him. He said the silliest things, always muttering to himself. You shoulda seen his face when the red came out in the wash; it turned to pink! No matter what he did, nothing made them go back!"

Red?

"Yup! Always wore red, he did. Thought it was a mark of status where he came from. He looked like a flower; smelt a bit like one too, well, also like sweat and the road, like the rest of us. After a while, you get used to it.

"And we met this _adorable_ little halfling; Alora her name was. So much fun! We had a great time together. We met robbin– uh, lookin' at this telescope in Baldur's Gate–"

Telescope?

"A large tube that lets you see for _ever_ – so much more fun than that silly ole paladin we met. What was his name? Ajantis, or something…"

Laurel…

"No, no that wasn't it. Oh, wait, yeah, you told me about her. Well, sort of. I read about it in your journal. That was _so_ sad. I cried! Never thought a paladin was capable of well… not being pompous. Maybe she was a priestess pretending to be a paladin? Anyway, yeah, Ajantis. We kinda had to drop him at Baldur's Gate; besmirching his good name an' all that'd get him kicked out of the Order. But he did help us, near the end. He was nice, but kinda dull. All this preachin' about this and that, 'justice' and 'righteousness'… hey, don't look so sad."

It is sad… I should have been with you…

"But you weren't, and we're together now. You did your best to help; you didn't know. You were about to leave, remember? The snows and storms stopped you. You were so brave, so very brave. I felt so bad for you, not knowing."

Sarevok…

"He's gone now."

Closer darkness…

"Did I tell you about this _stupid_ gnome? His name was 'Tiax'; he wanted to rule the world. This other gnome stalked us too; 'Quayle'. They started brawling in the street, so we left them there. Uhh, who else? Yeah! We met this crazy wyvern-hunter elf; he was _nuts_. Ten screws loose of a…"

Cold. So cold here…

"It'll pass. Try to hold on. It won't be long now. You found them, remember? The key. You found the key."

Key… yes, the thieves… they know we're here…

"Yeah, you led them here. You're out of it; it's the stuff he pumps you with, but it won't be long now. Just try to focus… it'll be over soon, I promise."

Where am I…?

"Shh. You gotta listen to me. While he's distracted. He thinks you're the weaker one, so he keeps you drugged, in a jar. That's why you're out of it. But you're stronger than he knows. He doesn't know you can walk in dreams… doesn't know you keep me sane. You gotta hold on… for me."

Never… let go of you.

"I know, an' I love ya for it. Just be strong."

Talk to me…

"Lemme think… yeah! He had this strange tattoo on his face, like a mask."

Coran…

"Yup! Got it in one. But we met this other elf, a real broody one. Kivan; he'd lost his wife – Tazok killed her. I felt so bad for him. But in the end, he avenged her for him. I dunno what happened to him. Coran got himself lost in the taverns – hey, no. No, stop it – I know it hurts, the thudding. You gotta focus. If you let go, he wins. Hold onto yourself, onto me. Our memories… that's all we have left to remember ourselves by. Forget them… and we become like him. He _wants_ us to forget."

Why…?

"So he can get at our 'potential', or something. The skull – he wants to strip away at us until there's only the skull."

How…?

"Through pain; I dunno – you told me. Remember?"

I did?

"Yeah, back when this first started. You made me promise not to forget, to keep reminding us of it. 'Have to hold on, have to remember'; it's the only thing that will save us. You needed time to search, to find someone to get us out of here. You can't let go now… not when we're so close. You gotta hold on–"

Talk to me…

"Did I tell you about the misery guts we found in Nashkel? The elf?"

Kivan?

"No, he was just broody; the misery guts was Xan. Sure were a lot of crazy elves… well, three. Anyway, before we left Nashkel, we found this priestess Tranzig had turned to stone; did I tell you about Tranzig? Well, he was was the guy feeding Mulahey all the orders from ole Sarevok – you know, Mulahey, the half-orc in the mines… I guess you don't know.

"You must remember _some_ of this! C'mon, you ole slowpoke! Keep up! After we got to the deep mines, the bit all the miners thought flooded, we found Mulahey, the one causing all the fuss. Boy, did we ever give _him_ a lickin'; you should've seen it! So scared he was, he ran out crying for his momma. Jaheira gave him such a whoopin'!"

Jaheria… the half-elf.

"Well, he didn't get far, 'cause the kobolds had built a trap meant to get us, but the stupid half-orc ran straight into it! The stone crushed him like apple-pulp! It was kinda messy. Actually, I'm kinda glad you weren't there for that one. You wouldn't have liked it. I guess I do feel a bit sad, but he was a baddie. Anyway some stupid assassin came after us; kept singing about death and stuff. Sore loser he was. Eddie made him sound even more stupid than he was; he does _the_ best impression. Alora an' I were in fits for hours.

"So after Tranzig, yeah, we just set Minsc on him, then Dynaheir; dunno which one he was more scared of. He actually wet himself, can you believe that? I guess I might too, if a berserker had grabbed me by the scruff of my robes, and lifted me half me height off the floor… I can't blame him for being scared. After that, we met this really, _really_ boring Flaming Fist officer called 'Vai', but she turned out to be real nice. You probably would've liked her, if you could get past all the salutes and stuff. Um, yeah! She hired us to go after all the bandits making such a mess, and Jaheria was about to go off on one, but Minsc stepped in and said of course we would; 'that's what heroes do, right Boo?'"

Boo?

"His pet rat. Just don't tell him it's a rat; he thinks it's a hamster, but we all know better. So, we found the camp, and guess who we found inside?"

Sarevok…?

"No, silly, _Tazok_. Although, I guess they do sound a little similar. Kinda. We probably shouldn't have told Kivan, but we kinda had to when we told Vai. Oh, did I tell you how we me this cute bard? Oh, don't look like that! 'What does he have to do with anything'; I know that look! He was on the way!"

To where?

"The bandit camp! You really are slow today! Well, his name was Garrick; real nice, but not all there, if you know what I mean. Too dreamy. Bit like you.

"I don't really mean it. Quit being such a girl."

A pause.

"He ran away after a while; scared the bandits would eat him, I think. 'What gave him that idea?' Oh… uh… Xan mentioned it. Yeah, that was it, Xan! Y'know, the misery-elf? Quit looking at me like that; would I lie to you?

"So that priestess we turned back from stone? She was right prissy; 'Tempest this, Tempest that,'; bit like Dynaheir, really, just without the 'thees and thous'. You won't believe what we found then."

Dragon?

"Nope! A drow! Yeah, a _drow_. Here we are hunting bandits, and we run across a drow; best of all, she didn't try to kill us. It was so much fun having her around. Poor Khalid… he blushed so bad. Minsc didn't know what to make of the 'pretty dark elf lady', and Kivan _hated_ her. I mean, he _really_ hated her. You know how elves are. Hey! Don't glare at me; I'm just tellin' it as it is.

"Well, I don't know what happened to them, but they kinda disappeared around the same time. Just sayin'."

I'm tired…

"I know, I know. Stay with me just a bit longer? We went in, and there was a lotta sword swinging, and arrows flyin', magic, that sorta thing, and while Kivan fought a duel with some guy in armour, I snuck in the main tent."

The bandit camp…?

"That's the one. Boy was that ever a bad move; there were _four_ of them in there! Just lying in wait. While we trashed their camp and set fire to stuff – uh… nothing to do with me, honest! All Edwin's fault! He's the one tossing fireballs as if they were…"

He's here…

"No! Not yet! You can't let go yet!"

Can't… hold on…


	5. Awakened, part 5

Thieves in the night… there's one, found him. A name… what does a name mean? What does my name mean? His is… can't remember. There are others coming… many others. Imoen… I won't let him hurt you any more. Won't let him touch you ever again…

Can't focus. Drifting…

Imoen?

"So ya wanna hear the rest of the story, or don'tcha? Khalid, he followed me inside; good thing too! I never would've managed _four_ of them. Little ole me against a nasty gnoll _and_ a mage _and_ a… are you listening? I'm tryin' to tell you how we beat the bandits! Minsc was outside, beating up on the other gnolls, and Jaheira was making sure no one died. She was real good at that; don't let her fool you. Viconia, the drow, she came with us too. It was chaos in there. Magic _everywhere_. Like you wouldn't believe; we blew the tent right off. Why? I think she was curious to see what the inside of a tent looked like; I don't know! Well, we had a really big fight on our hands lemme tell you… Hey, don't go back to sleep, it's just getting good!"


	6. Awakened, part 6

"Imoen?"

"You did it brother. Hey, careful now–"

I could barely see; I was sodden. Around me… was… goo? Sticky, bluish-green fluid, sickly, like a film… tubes fed the jar… the jar I had been trapped in. How long…

"I know it's hard, but you gotta focus."

"How–?"

"Always full of questions, but we gotta move."

I closed my eyes; I stank. I was… oddly warm, but cooling quickly.

"No! You can't go to sleep! I know he kept you drugged real good, but–"

"The thief…"

"Yeah, that's right! Concentrate! You led him to me; he jacked the cage. Then he led me to you."

"Where?"

"Oh, he's over there somewhere."

"Way out."

"Yes! Yeah, he knows the way out."

I shook my head, and a wave of dizziness struck. My limbs felt leaded; I'd never felt so weak. Tentatively, I tried a step; I fell forwards. Imoen caught me, taking my weight with her own.

"Woah, easy there."

What was _wrong_ with me? I glanced at the thief; he wasn't of northern descent, but tanned, exotic. Without thinking, I stepped into the waking dream, and _pulled_ at him; his will played to my tune like a harp sting. Without expression, as if dreaming himself, he supported both of us. It took every ounce of strength I had to drag my feet; getting my muscles slowly used to walking. I wish I had something fresh to change into.

I couldn't even look at Imoen's 'clothes'; ragged, torn and bloodied, I couldn't begin to imagine what _he_ had done to her. I really, really didn't want to.

I felt her eyes on me; I glanced up. I couldn't even bring myself to return that tight, understanding smile. Her sympathy hurt. I felt exhausted, but we couldn't stop, couldn't rest. We'd barely even made it to the door.

For the first time, I looked around our surroundings. Everything was dark; a dimly lit hallway shone where the door was.

It was agony. Everything cramped. But somehow, after an eternity, my body began to remember how it was supposed to work. Slowly, I learnt how to move again.


	7. Awakened, part 7

The layout was eerily familiar. I had seen it through the thief's eyes. There were other chambers, other jars, other cages. All… empty. There were locked doors, and I, to my shame, did not try them. Even Imoen, whose curiosity shone brighter than the sun, left those doors alone. I think it was a mark of just how battered we were. We had to stop and rest every couple of minutes; even with the thief's aid, the simple task of walking left us spent.

It was not a madman's labyrinth; there _was_ a certain twisted logic to the compound. Up to the north, I knew there was a forge, where Duergar, 'grey dwarves', crafted the knives that… it was too horrible. I stared at Imoen, suddenly sickened. Those cuts on her brow… gods… he was a monster.

"Hey, I'm all right. You look like you're gonna be sick; let's rest a minute."

Always looking after me.

A commotion up ahead prompted us to hide; in this particular section of the compound, there were crates everywhere. It seemed that our captor had supplies shipped in, and these were kept nearby the cages and jars, about midway between the forge and his chambers.

There was an upper level, beneath a basement to a house, or shop; I wasn't sure which, and that led to the street level. I knew the sewers ran near here, but the thieves used the sewers as a sort of highway, and had tunnelled into the compound. Given the ferocity of the skirmishes, the wiser course was to avoid the sewers, lest we were mistaken for _his_ followers…

There was so much I wanted to say to Imoen, so much I wanted to do to let her know how glad I was she was here with me. I hadn't the strength; it took everything I had just to keep moving. Slipping in and out of the waking dream was easy; it was not my will that was weakened. Despite that, the drugs lingered; now and then, everything blurred; my steps became shakier, my concentration waned.

Somehow, she understood. Just those glances, those small smiles.

From the roars of pain and the strange tongue, it was a safe bet the Duergar had engaged the thieves. We pressed on.


	8. Awakened, part 8

Everything became a blur in my mind; a dark haze of dim passageways, stone lined walls, low ceilings and dark chambers. Imoen insisted that her friends were kept in another part of the compound, beyond storage, and reluctant to remain another second in this place more than we had to, we both knew she would never abandon them. I would never ask her to. So we set off.

We came across evidence of fighting; the tunnel had brought a swarm of cutthroats and thugs; they ran riot. All around us, ahead and behind, we heard battle being joined. We kept away from all of it, though, we ran across the freshly slain bodies of two thieves and a Duergar dwarf. Despite her revulsion, the dwarf's dagger was far superior to the thieves' short swords; a single look told me her confidence was up for having a blade, no matter where it came from.

Surprisingly, she didn't take our 'guide's' sword; but neither of us had the strength for a longer blade, light or not. I wasn't sure if she knew how to wield curved blades, though, I suppose its simple enough to swing at a foe. There's a world of difference between using something well and merely hacking though, and I certainly wasn't going to argue if she wished for a more familiar knife.

I was tempted to take a jerkin from the dead, but prudence told me we should hurry; the sound of fighting behind us increased, and we wanted to leave no trace of our presence.

I just hoped the goo would dry without leaving a trail.


	9. Awakened, part 9

The very air seemed to crawl with tension; we expected shadows to jump out at us from every corner, every nook, every cranny. It is a horrible feeling to wade through… anticipation, and our pace was so slow, we barely seemed to make any progress. I don't know what it was, but our strength did seem to return; though still weakened, we each drew on inner reserves… reserves from the well of our sire. This… divine reservoir fuelled us, and were it not for that, we would have fallen long ago.

Eventually, after having lost all track of time, we came across the jars her friends were in. It was… horrific. The stench was horrific. Fortunately, they seemed to be kept in a sort of stasis. Like the bell-jar I was in, they floated in goo, kept alive by tubes.

There were but two of them.

Imoen's eyes welled, but somehow she kept it together. It took everything we had to break the jars open; but her magic cracked, then shattered them. The explosion of shards tore through the chamber; had we not thrown ourselves outside, we would have been shredded in the blast.

Amazingly, they seemed in better condition than me. My eyes widened at just how tall the tattooed man-giant was up close; easily between six and seven foot? The woman – a half elf – was the same as the one who had assaulted the gnoll's fortress so many months ago. There was no mistaking either of them. I was suddenly very, very glad they were on our side…

As their eyes opened, I saw both grief and fury. It was as well there were no weapons around…


	10. Awakened, part 10

No introductions were offered, nor greetings exchanged; there was a mutual understanding, a need to rid ourselves of this place, and with our guide in tow, we set off. Whatever hope we had of acquiring our old equipment was lost in light of more immediate needs; nothing was worth the risk of recapture.

We headed for the stairwell, and the cellars that would lead us to freedom.

A few Duergar were locked in battle with professional thugs; by the time we reached them, the fighting had intensified and left only a few alive. With our arrival, the remaining dwarves threw caution to the wind, and axes, and knives, flew. It was a desperate, though calculated, gambit. Had the thugs carried shields, it might not have worked; instead they were prepared for close-quarters fighting. Knives, cudgels, and short bladed swords. The axes bit cruelly as they split flesh and bone alike; one landed in our guide, barely missing me.

The tattooed warrior was as fierce and as foolhardy as I remembered; he had faced a dozen gnolls, charging headlong in, and leading Dynaheir's rescue (though I knew not her name at the time). Here, in the darkened passageway, he charged at the dwarves; with his fists, he pounded, the red mist descending on him.

Incredibly, they broke and ran. Coldly, the she-elf picked up one of their knives and flung it towards their exposed back; it thudded with sickening accuracy into the base of his head. The berserk warrior broke the neck of the last; hauling the struggling dwarf, his broad shoulders no match for the burly human's; the crack was dull, final. With the last of our foes hanging limp, I noted that the warrioress scoped up a fallen axe, passed it to the man, and took a cudgel for herself. I did not miss the knives she stashed in her sash either.

Imoen's hand found mine, and as always, her touch reassured me. With a squeeze, she nodded to me; and together, we stepped out towards the door.


	11. Awakened, part 11

After so long in the dim, the day was blinding. Blinding and warm; dazzled and dazed, I could only squint; my companions fared only slightly better, and to our horror, we found ourselves face to face with our captor.

A dozen thieves battled with him.

With a battle cry that drowned the din, the tattooed warrior charged. In a mighty cleave, he swung at our foe; an upheld hand, and the axe shattered. There was nothing but chill in the effortless wave; he did not even bother to show his contempt.

Enraged by the sight of him; the leather mask and pale eyes, Imoen's reason fled. Unleashing a magical barrage that shook the street's very foundations, raw force pounded his defences; an orb shimmering gold surrounded him. This same sphere blocked the long daggers, deflected arrows and spells alike; nothing pierced our captor's shield. Nothing… until Imoen. Fuelled by our sire's divine essence, her wrath battered and blasted a hole she ripped open.

Distracted by the thieves he blew apart, he recoiled under her assault; with a grunt, he took it, the side of his body seared and directed a counter ward with furious gestures; his incantation send a shockwave that knocked all present to their feet, all but Imoen. Holding her ground, her gesture shattered the bricks behind him; his shield leaving him untouched.

Everywhere, choking dust lifted; blinding, blackened, scorched by the fire the Imoen traded. Her wild, eyes aglow; power crackled around her. This… my sister… an avatar of destruction. And our captor… a rock. Aside from the first shot she got in, she had not breeched his defences; ignoring her, he ripped apart the rest of the thieves, and then the air shimmered.

Cowled figures appeared, robed.

Somewhere amidst the carnage, the she-elf had tackled me to the ground, shielding me with her body; masonry fell. Bricks… arches, windowsills. The metal fencing that guarded the balconies was warped, fused, melted; we were trapped under an girder; choked, I began to see black.

The last thing I remember was the newcomers being blasted; one after the other, our captor ripped through their wards; no expression ever passed his gaze. Uselessly, they threw their spells against him; nothing got through. Imoen, he ignored, and time after time, she threw fire at him; the cloud of dust flared white, fused to glass. Glass she shattered; shards everywhere. She could not pierce the shield; three of the cowls tried to restrain her… two she turned to stone, the third engulfed in flame. More and more wizards appeared; their combined might overcame her… our captor spoke.

I could not hear him.


	12. Lost in Athkatla, part 1

Lost in Athkatla

For days I wandered, endless darkness. Resurgent memories, fever dreams. I slipped in and out. Time's meaning blurred; between bouts of oblivion, the months of captivity replayed themselves. One scene haunted me, over and over; Imoen disappearing with the cowls. With our captor.

I had failed her.

A palm on my head roused me; warm, then cool, a moist rag, laden with herbs. My eyes forced themselves open; I saw the warrioress looking down at me. I was trapped by blankets. Tawny eyes regarded me; up close, her features seemed sharper, finer, battle-scarred. Rich brown hair; the scent of earth and woodlands… everything about her was firm; the no-nonsense set of her mouth; she never blinked. I could not even begin to guess her years.

Dim memories of being thrown to the ground as she covered me returned. I did not know what to say; she did not give me the chance.

"Rest child," was all she said.

My eyes wandered over to the slumbering form of the tattooed warrior; even asleep, he was huge. As sleep took me, I felt her hand reach out and touch my cheek; a slight sigh not of my lips.


	13. Lost in Athkatla, part 2

In dreams I walked. I looked down upon myself, upon the world. The warrioress had left my side; I turned away from the waking world and sought the one most dear to me. Before light woke me, I caught a glimpse of her. Perhaps I had imagined it.

"While you were sleeping," the she-elf began; I had propped myself up on my elbows, wriggling free of my constraints. She stopped, "Unfortunately, we need coin."

I wasn't sure what to make of that.

"It is outrageous, but that is how cities, this city in particular works. Without it, we'll not get anywhere."

I nodded slightly; Athkatla, the 'city of coin' had earned its name well.

"He is too well guarded; here, abduction and murder are common. Even if we got to him, if he talked, we would have lost our only way to her."

"He?"

Again she stopped, and regarded me, then shook her head to herself. "I have made arrangements. There is… well, they are of no help to us. They refuse to provide aid." Her eyes flashed; something warned me not to ask who 'they' were. "I have a contact, well, that is, a… friend has directed us. The details are unimportant, child."

Again with the 'child'.

"As much as I dislike it, the best course is to gather the gold he wants. I fear he may want more than we can give."

"I can get him to–" Through parched lips, I managed to croak, only to be met by her steely tone.

"No. You are too weak."

So stunned was I, I couldn't argue. For a moment, she considered whether to hold her tongue or say more.

"I have already looked into other… tasks. There is one that may meet our needs and more. I am due to meet with her later today."

"There is a better way, we sail up the coast–"

"Child," Oddly gentle, she held me with her tone and eyes, "Do you know the season?"

Of course I knew the season– oh. I shook my head.

"No ship will sail; the summer storms–"

"Summer? But that–"

"Nothing compared to these. It is almost winter."

"But – it's warm, I–"

"We were held for half a year." A slim, calloused hand reached for mine, "Rest now. You've been out for days."

"How long?"

"Four, almost five."

I glanced at the tattooed giant; what could put him out for so long?

"Minsc's just dozing," she reassured me, "his head was hit, but he's had worse. A lesser man would have died."

"You… brought us here? Alone?"

Her smile was amused, wry, "You think me not capable? I had help." Another pause; rising, she firmed, "Now, rest. You want to meet this Nalia De'Arnise, don't you?"

De'Arn- who? Oh, the contact? Or our employer? Sleep snatched any further thoughts from me.


	14. Lost in Athkatla, part 3

I've never liked nobles. Since my earliest years, they plagued me. How many times had I been turfed out from my studies? This or that tome taken from me; told to "run along now, child", sent to my cell as if I had misbehaved? How arrogant as they sweep through the silent halls, their haughty sneers and fawning lackeys…

I immediately disliked her a little less. Nalia De'Arnise might have been anywhere from seventeen to twenty-five, but her mannerisms were those of every other noble I'd ever encountered. Perhaps they were bred that way. "Slumming" indeed; I was no peasant, I, who was a scholar, a… I was exhausted. The drugs had finally begun to wear off, but it would be many days before I was completely free of them.

Despite her attempt to 'dress down', her blue skirt and red shawl did little to impress upon me the virtues she preached. "Charity", and "the needy" were all very well, but something about her grated; as if her "good works" somehow offset the fact she was born to a life of privilege, that it was her _right_ to rule, no matter how benevolently. But then, I thought the same, didn't I? I who was the son of Murder…

But she was desperate. Despite her accent, she was sincere in her plea; her family's castle was under siege. She needed to raise a force to repel the invaders. Something about her appeal touched me; if nothing else, she loved her father. Through her freckles, irritatingly curled hair and hazel eyes, I saw a young girl frantic to save her father.

Had Jaheira not accepted, I would have.

By the time we returned back to the inn, I had lost all interest in my surroundings; but for Jaheira guiding me, I would have missed it entirely. I could not even concentrate on the dreamwalking; I had expended too much trying to get out of that damn jar… its liquid stench still filled my hair.


	15. Lost in Athkatla, part 4

The ride took twelve days; we narrowly avoided slavers, and when we finally arrived, the truth became apparent. Trolls. Jaheira slapped De'Arnise across the face; I was livid, but still too out of it to give my ire voice. Jaheira was ice; tightly controlled, her eyes burned, flashing like lightning. Worse than a shrieking sirine, she was terrible to behold. I thought she might leave, but we needed the coin for Imoen's sake.

Nalia turned white, eyes widening as she raised a disbelieving hand to her cheek; the white imprint of Jaheira's palm would not fade for a while. We had been led to believe a force of mercenaries hired by an unknown rival had stormed the keep; we were not prepared for trolls, or so I thought.

The young noble had brought others with her; there were mutters of desertion. Had not the captain of her guard been there, she might have ended up with a knife through her belly. I wondered if anyone had ever struck her before, and why he had not stopped it.

Aerie, a wingless elf, an 'Avariel' priestess; a dwarf named "Korgan", and a mage both Minsc and Jaheira seemed to know, one Edwin Odesseiron. These seemed to be all Nalia could find; it seemed the Avariel's 'uncle', a gnome by the name of "Quayle", had been caught by slavers – slavers he rescued her from. She needed the money to buy him back; the slavers had tracked him to a circus he had hidden them in, and the trope had moved on, threatened by a nearby theatre, the "Five Flagons Inn", if Aerie is to be believed. I get the impression Quayle wasn't popular; I wish she would stop whining.

Both the dwarf and the wizard have threatened her if she does not stop, and even Jaheira, who stands watch over my side, finds her patience wearing thin. Minsc seems immune, too busy glaring at Edwin, who mutters constantly to himself. I suspect this may be the mage Imoen spoke of; his red robes have a faint tinge of pink about them.

Nalia is too worried about her father to care about anything else, and I find her aloofness grating. She seems surprised when anyone talks to her, and I care little to try. I am reminded too much of home, and the visiting nobles to heed her sermons.

Korgan desires nothing more than coin and blood; to hear him at the campfire each night, he is a berserker and only Minsc can match tales with him. Minsc, however, is often silent, brooding over his lost Dynaheir. Likewise, Jaheria speaks only to check on my wellbeing, and those words are few. I do not like to ask; I fear whatever leniency she extended in the inn is lost, at least until we are rid of this party. I wonder about what fate fell Khalid; I shudder to think of him and Dynaheir trapped down _there_ , buried within _his_ tombs. If – if he is still alive, I fear a fate worse than death.

My own thoughts are a blur. I slide in and out of the waking world; dreams fill my mind, and whether it is the drugs, or simply the effects of the ordeal, I cannot say. My lack of apparently concern has caused Aerie to avoid me, shunning my "callousness". The looks Jaheira levels at her may have helped. I think of Imoen constantly, of the fortress; what happened to my sirines, my gnolls? Of the shaman and xvarts, my winter wolves?

How did I get here? How did Imoen find me? I treasure the memory of her words. It tears at me, having found her only to have lost her. Sometimes, I am in another time, another place; I see the mocking skull watching, gazing onwards at some predestined event I cannot more than glimpse at.

Sometimes, I am back in the library at home, with my books, or in my cell; Imoen is there, climbing on the bed, looking at the storm outside. I hear it, but it cannot touch us; then I glance up and she is gone. I am alone.

I dream of her; she is as we are now: older. She sits vacant in a cell. I hear her whisper; she calls to me, desperate… I cannot tell where she is. Sometimes she is in pain; I cannot comfort her. She clings to me, to my voice, my image, my presence. Is it real, or imagined? I… cannot tell.

I reach down, deep, deep inside, deeper than the skull, to the very pit of what I am; drawing from the well beyond the taint. I give of myself; it strengthens her. Distantly, I feel the gods' disapproval; I know it is forbidden, though I do not know how. I am weakening… slowly dying, if I keep on, there will be nothing left; what I have gained from Sarevok's fall was vast; half of that is gone, hers. She _will_ survive. She must.


	16. The Keep, part 1

The Keep

"That's all you could bring? No offence, Lady Nalia, but…"

"We take all the help we can, Lieutenant."

Their camp was in shambles; a hastily erected palisade wall, and barely a dozen men. The plan was to storm the keep. A hidden entrance, into the cellars. A stairwell to the servants' quarters. I could not believe it. Korgan was all for it; eager to see his axe bite troll flesh, he had already loaded up on oil and torches. Edwin, ever confident of his own abilities, scorned any delay, caring not for the means as long as he could show off his wizardry.

Minsc was no better; driven by Nalia's cause, he had pledged to find her father and rid the keep of "evil". Did that include our companions, I wondered; did that include _me_?

At least Jaheira was as sceptical as I was. The keep's mage had been slain in the initial assault, as had the family priest; anyone who might have put up a fight was torn to shreds, and the family forced to retreat. How Nalia had escaped was not something I cared to ask; probably "slumming" in the stables, as Edwin had put it. If the remark stung, she did not show it, but head held high, declared that she would lead the way into her home.

Jaheira and I exchanged looks; I had the horrible feeling this would end in disaster. Fortunately, the captain was able to talk her out of it. He would go first, leading a group of his finest, while we followed behind. The last of the guard would take the rear, and once inside, we would split up, spread out and focus on bringing down the trolls one at a time. He believed a party of six could handle a single troll, if we were prepared and had the element of surprise.

Aerie dared venture what we would do if there were two, or three trolls together.

No one had an answer for that, until Edwin and Korgan's bravado got the better of them. Minsc's solution was simple: any evil that we met would meet our steel. The captain of the guard shook his head, but this was what was at hand.

Jaheira made the only sensible contribution, pointing out that the trolls were day-sleepers; our best chance was to strike at noon, though if forced to, trolls could act during the hours of light. With that cheery thought, I asked the question no one else had thought to: how many were there?

My question gained the eyes of all, and slowly, the captain informed us he did not know. Their best guess was anywhere between twelve and twenty. A large tribe was the most he could offer. Jaheira's tight-lipped silence spoke volumes. Not for the first time, I questioned the wisdom of this. We had come too far to turn back now… Imoen needed us.


	17. The Keep, part 2

Darkness. Damp. Cold stone. It was all I could do to keep from trembling as we ducked under the rocks, past the grate, and into the secret entrance. It seemed an old flood gate, or perhaps an abandoned sewer. While the guards ahead lit the way with torches, the captain fumbled with a key.

Closing my eyes, I followed the sound of footsteps in front of me; Jaheira was beside me, and after a single glance, nudged my shoulder with hers. She was there; I managed a weak, grateful smile. Her only acknowledgement was a look of sympathy.

It did not register that she had armed herself, and had been so since I had awoken in the inn; of course it was the most obvious thing in the world that she and Minsc would carry steel. It did not strike me until now just how much it was apart of her, of him. His sword, as large as the one he wielded against the gnolls, and her curved blade and teardrop shield, were more natural than not. They both moved with a certain grace, an alertness and step that spoke of years of experience.

It was the subtleties that told the most; the slight crouch, poised to leap aside, or to engage; the minute dip of the sword tip, the elbow bent just so; how they listened. Their pauses, their advance; I imagined her a tigress, him a bear. Both fearless. Korgan displayed a similar affinity, though less pronounced; his rounded shield he upheld, the double-headed axe in his hand, ready to swing or block, or snatch at one of the shorter handled axes he carried. I presumed he would throw these, their heads single and shafts weighted. I could not imagine carrying the mail he wore with such apparent ease. Between the mailed coif, rounded helm and braided beard, only some of his face was visible. Were it not for Imoen, I might almost feel sorry for the trolls.

A trickle of water ran underfoot; Edwin's muttered griping and his lifted hem warned me before I ever trod in it. While he grumbled about his robes, and gutter rats, I tried not to think on what we would find inside. Tempted as I was to enter the waking dream, I did not dare to chance it; taxing myself in here would not be wise. As if sensing my thoughts, Jaheira shot me a look. I could not resent her too much; she had not let harm befall me so far…

As the red robed wizard strode ahead, head held high and arrogant, Aerie picked her way through the dark, pressing as close to Minsc as I to Jaheira; she bumped into him more than once, which prompted him to ask what troubled her. Fortunately, Jaheira's glare prevented him from asking loudly; his booming voice would have carried throughout the keep's underside, alerting all our foes I feared.

Aerie's reply was genuinely pitiful; the enclosed dark scared her. I actually found myself sympathising; Edwin was too preoccupied for one of his usual comments, and Korgan was too eager to spill blood to hear. Whatever the guards behind us thought I did not catch, but to my surprise, Nalia spoke up. Despite the anxiety in her tone, she told the priestess the tunnel did not stretch for long. I had not expected such understanding; Nalia confided that as a child, she was scared of the dark too, but there was nothing to fear. Minsc kindly added his assent, stating that the dark would have to get through him first. It was a foolish thing to say, but it seemed to perk the Avariel up.

I kept my thoughts to myself; crumbling brickwork, collapsing tunnels… memories of being trapped inside a jar… Jaheira caught my eye, and I fixed mine on the torch ahead; I sensed her slight nod. For whatever reason, her approval stiffened my resolve.

After what seemed like hours, we finally emerged in the old cellars. Here, the room split into three, with the fourth leading back the way we came. The creaky wooden stairwell, well used and frequently; the other cellars, and an old storeroom. The idea of all of us being caught in a confined room, and trolls surrounding us was not one any of us relished; despite the sudden chill, I realised how brave Aerie was. She was here, alone, amidst a group of strangers, trying to earn gold to free her uncle, just as Nalia was trying to save her father… It gave me pause. Perhaps we were not so very different? Edwin's motives remained unclear to me, but I did not have time to ponder further on them.

With a sharp nod to the captain, Jaheira led the way up the stairs; Nalia was a few steps behind Minsc, and Korgan had slipped in before the tattooed man. Gracing almost the top of Jaheira's shoulders, the dwarf wore an almost grin. I stifled a shudder; I did not especially like the idea of a bloodthirsty dwarf behind her…

Strangely, Aerie flashed me a wan smile, and she followed after Minsc. I glanced around at the awaiting guards, saw a wall of anxious and grim faces, then took the stairs. Clearly, they preferred the mercenaries to spearhead the retrieval.


	18. The Keep, part 3

The first troll we came upon was more horrid that I could have dreamt; it was grotesque, but not in looks, or even mannerisms; it was its stench. It went wild when it saw us.

We had snuck up on it; two at a time, Jaheira had led with Minsc, Korgan half a step behind. I waved Nalia back before she could step forwards, and motioned Aerie take care of her. Strangely, they even obeyed.

The passageway was dim, dank, and even with the flickering torches, it was a chilly place. The wind howled through the arrowloops, and though we had not divided into three groups yet, the column seemed fearful of being split up.

I missed my shell dagger, and its razored edge; the toxin the sirines used I wish I had, but away from the sea… even if I could get to the docks, I doubt I would have been able to find the sea-plants I needed. A merchant might supply them, but… their stalls were too far away to be of any use now. Regrets were just as useless.

Legend states only fire or acid may kill a troll. I have never had the opportunity to test the myth, but we weren't taking any chances. While Minsc beat the first troll into submission, we made ready; as its hairy arms raised to block the furious onslaught, Korgan threw oil over it. Jaheira coldly applied the torch. Wordlessly, she handed it back to me, and without a glance at the twitching, charred remains, she pressed on. I lingered for a moment, then followed her.

The column snaked on.

Three more trolls fell; though the corridors were shallow, Nalia got a couple of shots off; being a noble, she rode and hunted. It seemed a slight contradiction in terms, given her views on 'slumming' and 'charity', but she was a fair shot. By the time we reached the great hall, the trio of warriors were green with blood. That troll blood was green did not faze me, but Aerie looked slightly sick, as did a couple of the younger guards in the centre.

Here, we did branch off; we dispatched a lone troll: we had developed a working tactic: Minsc pummelled the beast's head, so it covered itself; Korgan cut at its flanks, and Jaheira lit the thing, while I supplied either the torch of the oil. Aerie hung back, as did Nalia. We were beginning to run low on oil, so our objective was the kitchens. The two guard groups would sweep the rest of the level, and we would converge in the hall again, before heading up to the family bedrooms; after that, we would scour the cellars for any remaining trolls, and then the courtyard and battlements. We were hoping to catch them unaware, but so far, every troll we stumbled across was awake, though sluggish.

Trouble came when a giant troll appeared from around the corner, almost gutting Edwin; the wizard was thrown against the wall, and from the creak, he was fortunate not to have broken his ribs; Nalia took a swipe across the side, the tip of its claw catching her shoulder, and almost her eye, and Korgan was kicked back into Minsc. Infuriated, the tattooed warrior charged forth, blade held aloft into two hands, but the troll's fist knocked him into Aerie; Jaheira threw oil, but the creature was faster than it looked. It sidestepped and hissed, bowling itself towards her; I didn't stop to think. I just acted. At twelve foot, the monster was a brute but size made no difference to the sirines' song; I could not sing as they, but stepping into the waking dream, I recalled their song to mind, and interwoven with strands of divine power, I threaded it with its thoughts, lulling the beast. Staggering back, it clutched its head, trying to fight off its natural sleep. Jaheira was the first to recover; this time, the thing did not dodge, and went up in flames as Korgan thrust a torch to it.

While everyone picked themselves up, I found myself the object of strange looks and newfound respect. No one said a word.


	19. The Keep, part 4

Our plan was a simple one, and for the most part, it worked. Trolls were dangerous adversaries at the best of times, but we had the edge. Our tactics changed somewhat; Korgan and Minsc would lop off the front paws of a troll, and as it fell forward, hamstring it, if they could. Jaheira would use oil, and if necessary, Edwin would supply the fire. It was mutually decided we would keep his spells in reserve, along with Aerie's pleas to the divine.

We reached the kitchen, re-supplied, and headed upstairs, rendezvousing with the guards before we did; I did not expect to find any one alive, and from the grim set of Jaheira's face, neither did she. Nalia lived in hope, and for once, the gods smiled on her. Her aunt and two servants were still alive, barricaded and hidden in a tower, out of the trolls reach. Why they hadn't scented them out I did not know, until I realised the fireplace in the room below disguised them with smoke. Jaheira did not need to tell them how lucky they were, but her look clearly said they should not have survived. It seemed cruel to tell Nalia, and I had no intention of doing so.

Jaheira had since patched us up, and while Aerie kept an eye on Nalia, we pressed on.

The guards lost three, two torn apart by a troll in the library, and another from slipping and skidding down a stairwell. The unfortunate man broke his neck, and there was nothing to be done. Nalia turned white at the news, but somehow kept the contents of her stomach to herself. I should have felt something; I didn't. Even Edwin forwent his usual sneer. Korgan cared as little as I, and ever eager for blood, led the way. Under Nalia's direction, we entered the lower cellars, at the centre of the keep. The family tomb rested here, and that is where her father and the remaining guards had made their stand.

Her aunt we left with a few men, instructing them to bar the door. Nalia refused to stay, despite her aunt's insistence, and away we went.

The crypt was everything I'd expected; statues and sarcophagi, the effigies of long dead lords and ladies, buried together, alone, beside their children, in a long line stretching to the deepest part of the keep. Here lay the heart of the De'Arnise line, and here was where any lord would make their final stand.

A giant troll and four others slept there. A smaller one, slightly shorter than Minsc, stood guard, but courtesy of Edwin, a single jet of flame scorched him to nothing. We took one look at each other, and Edwin did what he did best; showed off. With dramatic flair, he hurled fire into their midst; a wall of towering flame shot up across the entrance, and another jet of flame followed the blast. The sleeping trolls howled as the very air turned white hot. In a particularly gruesome twist, Aerie, of all people, threw a sack of oil in. The resulting blast deafened us, the flare blinding; with a short laugh, Korgan did the same, and without pity, Jaheira added hers.

By the time the flames died down, there was nothing left.

Wordlessly, I put my hand on Nalia's shoulder; I saw what she did: her gaze fixed on the doorway beyond the trolls' ashes. Torn to ribbons were the bodies of her father and his guard. She turned away, tearful. Aerie's sickened voice broke the still, "These inscriptions on the wards… this… this would have raised the keep's dead, including the trolls…"

With a frown, Jaheira silently agreed; I caught her troubled look. She knew trolls did not usually do this.

"Bah, let them come," Korgan bellowed, "What are ye? Cowards?"

Edwin dismissed it; Nalia made her way towards her father. In a small, unsteady voice, she gestured to the vault with the family treasure, "Your… your payment."

Moving in to take his share, an irritated Edwin was jostled by Korgan. "Now, _this_ is more like it!" The dwarf exclaimed, laughing as he took in the riches.

"You wizard, you had some part–"

"Unhand me, you simpleton!"

I glanced up to see Minsc had seized Edwin by the scruff of the neck.

"Minsc!" Jaheira's voice was like a whiplash.

"He– he–" Dropping him, Minsc vowed, "If you had anything to do–"

"Am _I_ responsible for your witch? Or your husband, mongrel?"

"Dare you not speak of him, Thayan–!"

"I have higher things to concern myself with. (Such as how to rid my robe of this infernal pink. Is it my fault that the witch could not resist my charm, but had the audacity to suggest that _I_ would marry _her_? What would _I_ see in such a _woman_ , when clearly my preferences lie elsewhere?). Where is that insufferable girl of yours?"

"Taken." The word came from my mouth, flat, deadened.

"I don't think–" Jaheira began.

"A wizard."

"(So it can speak. Amazing that it possesses–)"

"A wizard, ye say? Will ye be needing another axe?" Ever the mercenary, Korgan looked up from his looting, long enough to sense another employment opportunity.

"You owe her, Odesseiron."

"(How does it know my name?)"

"Twice she saved your life; she and Alora. That skyship, those plans you stole. Remember how they followed you, smuggled you outside? Remember the artefacts they hid in their skirts for you?"

"(How does it know this?)"

Jaheira looked sharply at me; she hadn't been aware of this.

"Or the whore she saved you from? The one about to knife you and take your purse? You were drunk on firewine; you didn't notice what the serving wench slipped into it. After you stumbled back, your arm around her shoulders, she kissed you, and helped you into bed. She smiled, and called you 'Eddie'; you threatened to shave her head if she ever told anyone. Did you think she didn't know the tattoos you Thayans place; how you shave your heads to put them there?"

"Enough! I am–" Flaming scarlet, he bellowed the world; I ignored it.

"Deny it all you wish; in your heart, you are fond of her. How many nights did she visit you, sneaking past the others on watch, to see if you were well? To smuggle you spell scrolls; really to ensure the spider bite had not grown worse. You remember the one that jumped you in Cloakwood; the one that struck before you turned it to ash. She would sit until the nightmar–"

" _Enough_!"

"Do you know how much she looked up to _you_ , the great Edwin Odesseiron, Red Wizard of Thay. She even washed your robes–"

"All right! All _right_!" He almost screamed, "If it will cease your incessant – yes, I will help!"

A pause, and then I met his eyes calmly, "She loves you."

"Damn you!" He roared, "I already said–"

"You left her at Candlekeep–"

"I went back for her! I went _back_. A scroll; a simple, stupid lost scroll, fallen from my case! A gift for her! I sold _everything_ ; everything damn you! Even my rare elf-painted picture cards, not that I expect a simian like _you_ to appreciate such artistry. Do you think I don't regret it a thousand times? Ten thousand? I searched everywhere for some trace, some clue! Finally, a rumour she was in Athkatla–"

Jaheira said nothing, not breaking even a small smile as Minsc heartily slapped the mage's shoulder; her eyes softened slightly, but no more.

"Evil little man does care!" The berserker announced.

"That had just healed, you _oaf_!" Edwin half yelped, half snarled.

From the tomb, Nalia's quiet sobs broke the exchange.

"Let us come for what we came for and leave," Jaheira's words were soft, but carried steel and sympathy, "Come with us if you will, dwarf, but I warn you, there is little gold in this."

"Ha! Ye hunt a mage," Korgan tested his axe, his toothy smile unpleasant, "Did ye forget a wizard has magic? 'E'll have much of worth on 'im, nay ye worry."

"Very well, but if you betray–"

"I'll over look ye words this once, but ye best be listening, for I no be sayin' this twice. T'would be bad business; that sort of thing ruins reputations, and in this line of work, yer name's what sells."

Not entirely convinced, Jaheira's held her silence.

The look she gave me promised there would be further words later; how necessary baiting Edwin was in front of everyone would only be part of what her lecture would involve. The rest would be berating me on such folly, and where had I learnt what I knew.


	20. The Keep, part 5

Gathering their share, I watched as the others filed out; Aerie hung back. I sighed to myself.

"What you said earlier… who is she to you?"

"My sister." My bluntness did nothing to dissuade her line of questioning.

"But what you did with the trolls…"

Somehow, she didn't listen to my expression; I should have said it directly.

"It felt… primal. Magic… but… of the gods; not like mine, or the mages'. What… are you?"

I was growing tired of that question.

"Follow me, and you'll find out." I told her flatly, and walked out; her eyes followed me. I felt a prickling sensation between my shoulders and sudden chills ran down my spine; I had to find some way of escape. Or someone, maybe, a knight; a paladin! To marry her off to – and quickly. I did _not_ need this.

Nalia's tears turned to grief, echoing as I left.


	21. What Lies Beneath, part 1

What Lies Beneath

"We're being set up," I told Jaheira bluntly, knowing our 'talk' still awaited. Now we were finally alone, outside above the courtyard, the drawbridge gatehouse opposite, I felt better. Somehow, the fresh air and sunshine did not seem right, not after the slaughter we'd partaken in, but it was what I needed.

While the guards swept the keep for a sixth time, we watched the courtyard. Aerie had sidled up to Minsc, and was shyly asking him about 'Dynaheir'; 'failing his witch' followed, sympathy and welled up eyes; "I'm so sorry," she placed her palm on his huge arm, as the warrior grieved.

Edwin and Korgan were exchanging viewpoints over cards; their discussion became heated and lewd, and Nalia still grieved inside. I expected her to interrupt at any minute.

Jaheira seemed momentarily surprised, then thoughtful; more about me than my assessment, I feared. She had been deep in thought before I spoke, possibly about earlier.

"I agree." At least she did not patronise me by asking why I thought this; I respected her candidness. "Their behaviour is unusual."

Her words confirmed my doubts. I dared to venture the question that had been troubling me since shortly after we had found Nalia's father. "Who did you hear about this from? This job."

Her eyes thinned; for a moment, I thought she might refuse to give voice to it. "My… contact."

"Perhaps it is time we got some answers?"

"I was thinking that too. You seem to be feeling better." Her eyes flicked from the gatehouse to me, her assessing leaving me uncomfortable and self conscious.

"A little," I allowed after a shrug.

"Imoen said you were a shy, quiet boy, who loved his books. Gorion said much the same." Her pause was pointed, "What you said back there to Odesseiron was not." I knew it; here it came.

"It had to be said."

"In front of everyone?"

Hesitation; then a firm nod. I had no need to justify myself, but… I owed her. And I chose to. "Yes. It was the only way to shame him into action."

"Remarkably astute. How did you know all that?" Her tone was mild, too mild, "You were never with us, but your words speak as one who was."

"Imoen told me."

"When did she have time to? Think child; you were trapped in a jar; when could she?"

"I…" I frowned; I didn't know.

"What else do you know?" She leaned in, intent, "Tell me how she met me."

"I…" Memories, a vision, bubbled up, and my words spilled out on their own, "There was an assassin, no, a bounty hunter… you had gone outside; it wasn't raining, it had stopped an hour before. The Friendly Arm Inn; the old temple of Bhaal. She had a blister on her right toe; you lanced it three days later, and scolded her. Then uh…"

"Tell me," she insisted.

"Herbs. You gave her herbs. For…" I stared; how did I know that?

She leaned back and sighed, "As I suspected."

I really wish people wouldn't do that.

"Imoen would never tell anyone that. For a moment there… it is unimportant."

"Tell me," it was my turn to implore, uncharacteristically, taking her hand.

"I saw her in your features." Another pause. "Whatever you are doing, you must stop."

"I don't know–"

"Listen to me! This – connection – you share; do not deny it! I see her in your eyes, hear her voice in yours; when we ride you reach out to her. You… Silvanus…" She stared, "I should have known… Dreamwalker!"

I said nothing.

"So that is how… that explains the troll, but what you are doing – tell me; how do you see her? How often? Where is she?"

"As I see her, each time I sleep; I don't know, I–" I shook my head.

"Think! You must–"

" _I don't know!_ "

Slowly she nodded; everyone was staring at me. I couldn't think; everything drifted up. Imoen's memories, mine… blurring… Jaheira's hand on my shoulder brought me back. Conversation below resumed.

"You sire's essence," she sighed finally, "that was what I was feeling. Each time – I felt… you are sustaining her, aren't you?" Sharp brown eyes refused to let go of mine, "That is why you are so tired, why you cannot focus. You are… draining yourself…" The realisation struck her like a blow; it was as if what I was (I did not ask how she knew), the full impact of my actions dawned on her.

Just then, a bleary eyed Nalia rounded the parapet, and began making her way towards us.

"You can't keep doing this–" Jaheira cautioned.

"I must–"

"You'll die–" She hissed, waving me to silence. "You cannot keep this up. You're no used to anyone dead."

"She's my sister…" I whispered.

With Nalia's appearance, the courtyard fell silent again.

"I… wanted to thank you, and apologise," Nalia greeted us, hands firmly at her sides. "Despite… my…"

"Dishonesty?" Edwin supplied from below with his signature sneer.

"…Fine, my dishonest. You still… my father is avenged."

Neither I nor Jaheira said anything. Nalia glanced down, then back up at us, "I would reward you further – I can never thank you enough–"

"I can think of a few ways ye could, lass."

She flushed at that.

"Korgan!" Aerie hissed, mortified for her.

Edwin sniggered under his breath.

"Your thanks are well received," I stated formally, unwilling to allow Nalia's humiliation last longer, though refusing to address her with her title. Jaheira nodded, pleased with my choice of words.

"I – well, I wanted to – this Imoen? I… wanted to wish you well."

"We'll need more than wishes, lass–"

She ignored the dwarf this time, "And if you need anything… more work, assistance… any help I can give you…"

I saw the plea in her eyes; she was desperate to make amends, sooth her conscience, perhaps? Pity welled up in me.

"Then we shall call you." I said calmly, before Jaheira could; I needn't have worried; the half-elf inclined her head, once in acknowledgement.

"W-we could use rooms, just for tonight," Aerie spoke up timidly.

When had she – who had said we were staying or she could come with us?

"If – if you don't mind, that is. We – might not h-have got all the trolls; if – if they come back…"

She was right. Nalia's guard was under strength. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't just leave her. The thought had evidently crossed Nalia's mind too; she had come out here to praise us, but to beg.

I felt myself sigh, then nodded in agreement. From the corner of my eye, I caught Jaheria's slight nod; evidently, she thought I had made the right choice.

Nalia look caught between bursting into tears or throwing her arms around my neck. Somehow, she managed neither, steadying herself, though not her voice. "Thank – my thanks. All of you. I will of course pay…"

As if it were coin that swayed me–

Jaheira shook her head with the barest twitch; my rising ire fell. Where had that come from? It was unlike me to… I closed my eyes. We needed it for Imoen's sake, no matter how reluctantly.

"Then I will see you at dinner?" Half plea, half expectation, it might as well have been a command, if a somewhat hopeful one.

It had been a long day – and we were fortunate beyond words to be alive. Somehow, it seemed too easy.


	22. What Lies Beneath, part 2

"Tha-that was kind of you."

Somehow, Aerie was on my doorstep; the last to pass by? I looked up from the bucket, washcloth still in my hand.

"Y-you didn't do it for the coin, despite her lies, did you?"

I was too tired for this; I shouldn't have encouraged her. Curse my indulgence! It wasn't fair to snap at her, no matter how unwanted this was, "Why do you say that?"

"Your eyes, when – when she mentioned pay. I thought she would cry; you were… scary for a moment there." She hesitated, "She likes you, you know. She – she isn't sure what to make of you, so she tries to tell you what she thinks will please you." Her shyness faded as she went on; I wasn't really listening. Stepping inside, she closed the door gently, "If – if you wanted… you could make this castle yours."

I didn't blink, but looked through her, uncomprehending.

"You saved her life, her home… her aunt and honour. She wanted you to stay. If you don't go to dinner, you'll disappoint her." This time, the pause was more considering as though waiting for me to understand the truth of her words for myself, "She needs something to be strong for her; she's trying, but she just lost her father."

"I lost my sister–"

"She – she knows. That – that's why she came to you, not Jaheira. She couldn't take her eyes off you. She heard. It touched her. If – if you asked, she'd–"

"What? Marry me? Offer to accompany us?"

Aerie nodded.

I didn't reply; this was madness. I'd only just met her–

"She likes you," She repeated, closing the distance and taking my hand. Had I voiced my objection? "I do too." She whispered, kissing me quickly. I had not thought it in her to have the courage to… Just then, Edwin entered unannounced. She swept past him without a backwards glance; my cheek stinging as I raised a hand to it. Was she blushing? Was… I? I caught my reflection in a polished pewter vase; thank the gods I was not.

"I said," Edwin spoke down to me, "That _tree-lover_ says to inform you dinner will be in three hours. She will send for you then. (Why _I_ have to commune with these simpletons–)"

"Tree lover?" I repeated dumbly.

"The harpy! The mother hawk always watching you!"

I frowned.

"The she-elf druidess!"

"Jaheria?"

Edwin sighed.

A druidess? That… explained much. Such as how she could – _what_ had Edwin just said?

"(If I have to name that half-breed, I–) Ah, so reason's light finally enters your eyes! You understand–"

"If you ever name her a 'half-breed', 'mongrel' or 'bastard' again…"

"You threaten me? The great Edwin O– bah, ungrateful monkeys–"

"Not _I_ , her." I nodded to the door, "Can't you smell it? The rich earthy woodland–"

His face paled and he bolted.

Jaheira entered, fixing me an arched look. "Rich earthy woodland? Are you trying to say something, child?"

Your hair. It smells nice." I stated lamely.

She smiled wryly, a rare sight; then it faded as she gazed at the fire. "I wasn't sure that boy would relay my message fully."

I waited.

She sighed and clasped her hands, facing me, "Imoen had dreams; dreams not unlike yours, I imagine. She wouldn't speak of them, but I know she fought them. Once – only once," she held up a forefinger, "she sobbed into my shoulder. Promises of power–"

"It's a lie." I interrupted harshly.

Her smile returned, briefly. She nodded, then paused, choosing her next words with care, "Be wary of Nalia."

"You too?" I sighed; her look sharpened. "Oh, Aerie said the same; that Nalia'd try to marry me if I wasn't careful."

"Hmm." She mused, "Take care to watch the priestess as well then. I would not have expected her to try so quickly for your affection."

I sighed again, and studied the flames. "Why all this? I just want to find Imoen. I'm not exactly much to look at, or a prize." I needn't remind her what I was, what would happen to me.

"You should look in a mirror," she returned dryly. She hesitated, as if about to say more, "Get some sleep; I'll wake you later."

Then she was gone.

I preferred the sirines' uncomplicated company. None of these strange – well, at least Edwin had made no threats, had he? I could go mad thinking about this. Lying back, I closed my eyes and began to 'walk.


	23. What Lies Beneath, part 3

_Something_ was watching; old, powerful, but I did not know what. Watching… me.

It didn't know I was aware of it. Before I could look further, a calloused hand shook me.

"Grub's up, lad."

Rubbing my eyes, I blinked stupefied at the dwarf.

"Are ye deaf? Ale! Get up off yer arse."

I rose, and followed him.


	24. What Lies Beneath, part 4

Dinner was surprisingly… civilised. The women had changed; dresses for Aerie and Nalia, knee-long tunic-skirt for Jaheira; light blue, mid blue and brown, respectively, of modest cuts. I was painfully aware I hadn't bathed; the most I had managed was to wipe my face. I still stank of the road and torched troll; evidently so did Minsc and Korgan, though the ladies, and Edwin, might have been dining in a palace. The latter smelt faintly of scented soap and roses. His neatly trimmed beard and black hair were freshly oiled, his robes… laundered? I glanced at my hostess, nodding slightly as I took my place. All 'polite' eyes were on me, and somehow, I was found and met by Aerie's and Jaheira's; mild disapproval followed. Edwin's look suggested I was as much a barbarian as the berserkers.

At home, it would have been enough. I justified it to myself by saying we weren't out of trouble yet. Honestly, I hadn't even thought of it.

"You look tired," Aerie offered quietly with a small smile, "Did you sleep?"

"Some," I murmured, avoiding the eyes, then staring at the fare before us. The long, formal table held a slight variety; dishes of meat, some salted, some spiced, others more sweet than hot; soup, though not stew, salvaged cheeses, and vegetables of various kinds, many of which were unknown to me. Roots I was used to; berries, nuts, even honeycombs; I had lived near a forest, after all. Kelp and fish were my staple; crabs and oysters. The fruits of the sea. Some poultry, a few eggs, but… this? There were many eggs, three birds and a salted ham. There wasn't any bread, but bread was not something I was used to; the xvarts grew oats and other cereals. With my arrival, those with manners began; those without had started already.

I had to admit, it wasn't bad. Most of the stores had been ransacked, but what ale remained was stacked in the room beyond. One cask served as Korgan's 'chair', a fist-sized hole in its side leaving him to drink as much as he pleased, and a second keg sat beside Minsc. Wine had been poured for the rest of us, a red I had not the palate to appreciate, but from Jaheira's slightly raised eyebrow, I could tell it was fine. While the Thayan sipped his cup with an aloofness that would shame the mountain peaks; Korgan and Minsc feasted on meat and ale in turn.

"Th-this is really excellent, Nalia," Aerie commented, sipping hers, "Did you really cook all this?"

"You and Jaheira helped…" The noble allowed modestly.

Edwin contented himself with a mutter about where _he_ came from, the ruling elite did not cook, but it was good that women out here knew _something_ about their place.

Aerie flushed, but Nalia retorted sweetly, "Where I come from Edwin, it is considered civilised to provide for your guests." She smiled at the elven priestess, "Especially if they are proven true and trusted friends."

Aerie returned it shyly.

I did not like to point out we were mercenaries.

"So, wizard," Jaheira asked with veiled acid, "What _do_ you eat in Thay?"

"The finest fare, (not that I expect _you_ to know what real food is… bah, why do I waste my breath?)"

I ignored them; my eyes were drawn to the blue starlit sky framed by the stone window; we without a moon tonight, and air was cool. I had lost an entire summer…

The twin fires facing the table's centre kept the chill off the stone, but it could not warm me within. I thought back to Aerie's words; was there a reason I had been seated at the foot of the table? Nalia took the head, Jaheira her right, Minsc her left; Korgan faced Aerie, and beside him, Edwin sat. It did not seem out of place to sit the men down one side, the women the other.

I realised I was being spoken to.

"Candlekeep?" I frowned, stirred by memories, "The seas surrounded it on three sides; nestled in the cliffs, we were sheltered from storm and sky… a place of tomes, of learning. The libraries were visited by many."

Edwin pretended not to be impressed, though his eyes were hungry; Korgan was not, downing a tankard with Minsc in some mutual contest.

Nalia wore a smile, as did the ever-bashful Aerie.

"It must have been a peaceful childhood," Nalia picked up where Aerie left off, "We have – had – a library here. It is not much, but you are welcome to look through it."

I inclined my head, aware of the inner warning bells. Fortunately, Edwin of all people saved me, "Bah, what could be of worth in a place like–" he saw our hostess' eyes flash and amended, "that is, one looted by savages." He sniffed, "I doubt such creatures lack the means or refinement to appreciate true worth, such as written knowledge."

There was a hostile still, then a begrudging nod. Eager to clear the air, Aerie cleared her throat, "I… have an announcement." Standing, she looked around, "I talked it over with Minsc, and I'd like to come with you." She looked at me, "If that's all right."

Inwardly I groaned.

The dwarf's belch thundered through the hall; Aerie's nose wrinkled. Nalia controlled her own, barely, and Edwin's contempt was painted across his features. Minsc thought nothing of it, and I, like Jaheira, discarded it. "Ye talk too much! Eat! A meal's a fine thing; ye never know when ye'll get another."

The women's eyes wouldn't leave me alone. How was any of this my fault? Harder than ever, Jaheira's promised words; Nalia's were accusing as if I was somehow being unfair to Aerie, and Aerie's were earnest. I suddenly developed a taste for the wine.


	25. What Lies Beneath, part 5

"May I come in?" Nalia's tap on the door caught me unaware; stepping inside, she gently closed the door before I could object. It was her home, which gave her the right to go where she pleased. I was relieved she was not in her nightclothes, but she looked as if she had been crying again.

It was an hour or two past dinner; Korgan was still downstairs drinking with Minsc; Aerie and Jaheira had retired, as I thought Nalia had, and Edwin had chosen to skulk around in the library despite his earlier remarks. I was vaguely alert of the guard captain's absence at table, but I knew he was conducting the night's watch. Jaheira had visited the wounded before dinner, and I half expected her to make another set of rounds at any moment.

Of the aunt, there was no sign; nor did I expect there to be. From the harsh words they'd exchanged, it was clear her aunt thought Nalia had failed her father.

I said nothing; I should have been sleeping, but all I could manage was to stare at the flames. My only acknowledgement to the unspoken remarks at table had been to strip-wash and scrub myself with an entire bar of soap. The cloth was surprisingly soft and had come out black. I was instantly aware Nalia noticed my still damp hair, and her wordless approval. Inwardly, I sighed.

Taking my silence as an invitation, she straightened her dress, and took a breath, "What Aerie said… made me think. When you leave to find your sister tomorrow… take me with you."

I frowned.

"You'll need someone who knows the city – both the up and undersides; you're searching for her." The last was hurried; now, quietly, she slowed, "I heard about the guild war; I'm not as misinformed as you might think. I can help you. Please."

I wish I could have argued with that.

Her hesitation hung in the air, then decisively, she added, "Thank you… goodnight."

"Until tomorrow, Nalia." I found my voice; had I said another word, she would have stopped in her tracks. From the corner of my eye, I watched her go; she wavered at the doorknob, and I was certain she would say more. To my great relief, she did not unburden herself, but steeled her shoulders and stepped outside; my relief was audible. Outside the door, I heard her echo my sigh.

Why did I feel like I had just kicked a puppy?

The attack came after midnight.


	26. What Lies Beneath, part 6

Three trolls had survived our assault; having a wizard around would have been of benefit. I had not thought to bring a torch; in a rare flash of humour, I wondered how Imoen would react. She would ask if 'vinegar' or 'lemons' would work; I could just picture the look on Jaheira's face. The image amused me enough that being rudely awoken didn't bother me.

The guards on watch sounded the alarm. Over the course of the night, the wind picked up; their oil-wrapped arrows did little to bleed our foes, the flames licked at them and died. The trolls howled in pain and defiance, and kept coming. Here, in their element, I understood why they were so feared. They seemed to grow with the shadows, blending with them. All we could make out was dark, slithering shapes. Their reputation for eating the slain shook some of the guards so badly their shots flew wildly off kilter.

Ignoring the raised drawbridge, the trolls went straight for the walls. The keep had a ditch instead of a moat, and they clambered up the stones as if born to it.

By the time I emerged, one troll was dead, and the others had scaled the battlements. Using a cauldron of oil, they had set the wall alight, but it did not last long. Blown out almost as soon as it begun, the three on watch had to resort to arrows, flasks and torches. Pikes were useless; spears did almost nothing. Swords meant getting close enough, and halberds up here were unwieldy at best. They began to back-pedal, as the fourth guard frantically tried to rouse the keep.

I stepped into a waking dream; the trolls were angry, afraid. Driven by fear and hate, their rage made them powerful; I grappled with one, vying for control of its mind. Rooted to the spot while we warred, I conjured the sirines' song, but like Ursa the Bear back in the Xvart Village so long ago, its fury threw off the effects. Pain flared, and I released it; never had it hurt so. Agonising, _burning_ – my eyes fixed on the torch; it bore the outline of a troll, so bright, it seemed like a miniature sun. Its roars turned to whimpers, and finally, it fell, twitching, blackened, charred…

The guards did not question what halted the troll; they simply grateful it had. Minsc burst through the door, thundering a battle-cry, and in broad, overhead strokes, beat the remaining troll back. Just as he had nearly two years ago with the gnolls, he charged, without regard for his own safety. Surprised by this new ferocity, the troll's momentary confusion was enough.

In the flickering starlight, I caught a glimpse of orange, and realised he still had the rat. Though the troll dwarfed him at almost twice his height, the tattooed giant of a man drove his sword into the troll with a triumphant yell, and the beast toppled into the courtyard.

Awed by this display, most of the guards could only stare; one prudently threw oil over the gasping hulk as it tried to tug free the sword, whereby it was immediately it was set upon. Defying the wind, five arrows set it ablaze, several more scattering uselessly against the flagstones.

The troll's death knell was chilling; I glanced at the heaving berserker, and through his red mist, he saw me and bellowed something about 'righteousness' and 'justice'. Was he trying to be a paladin?

The guards started cheering.


	27. What Lies Beneath, part 7

Wearily, I stumbled to my room, and was met by a concerned and grateful Nalia. She hadn't taken the time to brush her hair, but her blue dress was hastily smoothed.

"I must thank you again. You have defended all our lives."

I tried too argue, but I lacked the strength. All the while, she gazed up into my eyes,

"The guards told me what you did. They say you held the lead off; they showed me how big he was. They say you used magic, and because of you, they were able to stall it." She smiled sadly, "I shouldn't have served that wine last night; I did not even hear the alarm."

"I wasn't really sleeping."

She accepted that, "I've posted what's left of the garrison, and Lady Jaheira and Korgan are sweeping the calls in case we missed any."

I shook my head, "No, those three were the last. Nothing else snuck in."

Relieved, she listened, waiting for my reassurance.

"There were twelve small trolls, and ten large, including the three giants we slew. Count the heads."

Slightly wide-eyed, she nodded.

I decided to relieve her of her awe, "I saw it in its mind; those three were left outside to track whoever came. Another day, and they would have sacked the camp."

She turned white.

"There are no more."

Somehow, she composed herself, "I… I see. Thank you." Then before I could stop her, she caught my hand, "But for you, we never would have known if there were more–"

"More might come," I warned; I watched her hopes sink, and awkwardly patted her hand. Why did I feel so wretched? "But we'll be ready."

She glanced up, then reached to peck my cheek. "Thank you." Her eyes were full, brimming.

I got the distinct feeling she meant more than just this night. Clearing my throat, I announced, after a quick decision, mostly for self-preservation, "We leave at noon. Be ready."

I had one more thing to do.


	28. What Lies Beneath, part 8

I found him later that night; his eyes were dry, red. I didn't believe he had been crying. His robes were clean, as if Troll blood had never touched them.

"What do you want?" He snarled, as I hovered in the doorway, "Come to gloat?"

"You're a Red Wizard."

"How perceptive, (as if I didn't have enough to do without having this prattle inflicted.)"

"You say you love my sister."

"Ah, so you have come to warn me of whatever dire consequences you have planned."

"You're selfish, they tell me, that you only look out for yourself, that power is your only goal."

"Ambition divides simpletons from achievers (not that I expect you to understand; bah, why do I bother to explain this?)"

Stepping inside, I closed the door, "What changed."

Edwin stared, "Get out."

"Tell me, or I'll–"

"Or you'll what? You dare threaten me?"

"I'll never understand. I don't want you as my foe, wizard. I came here for answers. To hear more of her. I'm asking… you were there for her; I wasn't. For months she travelled the Sword Coast while I… I should have been there. You were. Please."

For a time, he frowned, then his eyes grew distant. "I was dead. An ambush; a kobold's arrow, the snivelling cretins. A faceless, silver mask... a giant. He pointed... I saw _it_. The Wall of the Faithless. I... my magic meant nothing. I began to obey; I couldn't resist. You don't know what it's like… a god's will on his home plane. Kelemvor... She wouldn't let me go. Somehow she was there; she stood in front of me, defied him. She pulled me back. She defied a god for me (as well she ought). You don't understand. No one can understand."

"She's my sister, Edwin. I understand."


	29. Shadows of War, part 1

Shadows of War

The journey was uneventful until we neared the De'Arnise townhouse estates in the rich quarter; a night ambush, by the same slavers we had evaded leaving. Trying to bar our way, we rode them down, taking only two arrows: a glancing shot off Minsc's shoulder, and one firmly thudding into Korgan's shield. I doubt they expected us, but a less well-armed party? I shuddered.

Aerie's eyes were hard; she looked determined. I half wondered if we should return to finish the task, but Imoen's need was more pressing. We had wasted enough time. While guilt tried to deter me, I shook it aside roughly. Slavery had existed in Amn for centuries; could I, and a few companions, hope to put an end to it in one night? I was not a god yet.

I almost laughed bitterly. It had taken Sarevok _years_ to built up what he had. With the use of gold, iron, arms, and a powerful father. I had none of these, not any more. Ruthless politics and lies had almost gained him a ducal seat; for a short time, he ruled an entire city. What had I to compare to that? A not even half finished fortress; the ruins of one. A lighthouse, a village. A bridge. Even that had been taken from me.

I wondered what the rest of my 'siblings' were doing. While I chased after Imoen, they would be gathering strength. I had not felt any fall since Sarevok, but he was one of the strongest; I had felt flickers, before the night Imoen left Candlekeep, but I had not known what they were. Now I did. I could feel it when one of us died; the rest of us grew more powerful. There had to be a way to stop it…

An idea, the beginnings of an idea, began to form. Imoen and our masked captor had been seized; the use of portals employed. Perhaps… perhaps I could find a way to portal to Nashkel, ride to the fortress. I winced; I was unused to riding, the trip there I had barely been aware of, but the trip back? Very much so.

Jaheira in her mercy had taken pity on all of us, even Nalia, a self-named rider. The balm was a bless not even Edwin could refuse. Jaheira rode as one born to the saddle; both gentle and firm with her mare, she made me feel painfully inadequate. My gelding and I had had words… and after many more such words, we reached an accord. He would not buck, and I would not withhold food.

Minsc was too large, even for the plough horse; Korgan looked comical on his pony, and Aerie was at once both ill at ease and natural on her mare, when she remembered to relax.

A wave of helpless frustration coursed through me; I did not even know if my gnolls still lived, what had become of my sirines, my xvarts, my wolves.


	30. Shadows of War, part 2

We reached the estate in good time; I felt eyes watching us, but we rode hard and nothing else hindered our progress. Soon, they were forgotten, replaced by more immediate saddle-soreness, and an overwhelming urge to bathe from the ladies. That night all of us, even the crotchety, grizzled dwarf bathed in steaming pools filled with flowers.

While the ladies shared one such pool, I and the two warriors shared another. Korgan bore many, many scars, as did Minsc. I was remarked upon as being 'pale' by both; "lily white" was the term the latter used. "Look Boo! He is like the snow!"

I could have done without that. Edwin, in a rare show of shrewdness, refused to bathe with us on account that the "two hairy apes" stank like a "cesspit", and he'd "sooner have his back scrubbed by gnolls". Should I be complimented I wasn't included in that description? I wish I'd had his wisdom; not for the smell, for Edwin stank of horse as much as the rest of us, but for the few kind comments that followed. "Scrawny" was one; "soft", another, "lady-hands", "scar-less". Korgan was even benevolent enough to ask if I was a "priest's alter boy", as I "lacked the legs for a cabin boy"; had I been thinking, I would have asked him if he'd had experience of this. Alas, I was too tired to care. Minsc's bafflement at what an alter boy was resulted in a long, long talk with his orange rat and I truly wondered if I'd taken leave of my wits.

How the orange rat had even survived was a mystery to me.

When I finally hauled myself from the steaming waters, I discovered a kink in my back I could not shift, and then, to my amazement, the gruff dwarf bade me lie down. Sceptical at first, I was reassured by Minsc's presence, and the fact Korgan sported a loincloth. Then I learnt how much my imprisonment had weakened me; my back was putty in his calloused hands, and he was taken aback at just how tense I was. If scars told stories, then the rocks masquerading as muscles sang sagas.

Between beating and kneading the knots, my back must have clicked a dozen times; when his thumbs took the sole of my foot, it was wonderful agony. I never would have suspected it of him, but the axe-bitten warrior was surprisingly gentle and forceful in the same breath. By the time I staggered back to bed, all remarks were forgiven.

The beds were wonderfully soft. Softer than even those in the keep, the sheets seemed to embrace me. If this was the life of a noble, I began to understand why they scorned everyone else. No wonder Edwin was so particular; the Thayan demanded only the finest silk. Korgan's, by contrast, could be heard leaving his chamber door and thudding lighting in the hall. His growls of "soft, pampered fops" brought a smile to me that would not have appeared a year ago. Minsc, I believe, slept on the floor, though Boo took the place of honour.

I barely paid attention to the marble around me, nor the raised washstand; the mirror caught my gaze, and I hardly recognised myself. As wakefulness faded, I wondered how much I'd changed. I was used to bathing in the sea, or with warmed well water. I lived with sirines and gnolls, xvarts and wolves; only the xvarts showed some semblance of modesty. My hairless, pale skin was of passing interest to the gnolls, who found it strange I had no fur under my neck, not like they did, but they soon accepted it. The sirines wore a belt and little more, and what use for clothes had wolves? What would they think of me now? I'd been stuck in a jar for months without seeing the sun. Of course I was "scrawny" and grew tired easily.

Aerie and the others didn't know; only Minsc and Jaheira, and they spoke nothing of our captivity. How long would it be before questions were asked, before the manner of Imoen's abduction led to "how did the mage know you?"

…I had no answers. What had Nalia said? She was not as misinformed as I thought… did she… know?


	31. Shadows of War, part 3

The next day, Jaheira and I went to meet this "contact". Nalia wanted to come, but Jaheira decided it best for her not to be seen making inquiries with us. All of us wore hoods last night, but broad daylight was something else. Besides, she had other business to attend to, so Edwin went with her. I suspected Edwin had his own agenda, but if they both chose to go shopping, what did it matter to me? At least together, they'd keep an eye on each other…

Though she had not forgotten her uncle, Aerie, still tired from our travels, slept, while Minsc and Korgan further bonded over the pressing matter of "washing away the road's dirt" – from their throats. Supposedly, they would meet with the slavers on Aerie's behalf. The tavern they chose was as disreputable as Jaheira had ever seen to see her frown, but she let the matter slide. I, however, was not to accompany them; the look she levelled made that abundantly clear. Indeed, she expected "better" of me, and while it might keep those two out of trouble, Gorion had not raised a two-tankard drunk. I don't know why she thought I would, or she was scolding me. Scrawny. Frail. White-meat. Had she not heard any of it? I was the son of a god! A god! I'd like to see how well they'd do stuck in a jar for half a year.

…Except… Minsc had. Damnit.


	32. Shadows of War, part 4

The official immediately struck me as dislikeable. He was, as Jaheira described, "foppish", "pedantic", "small minded", "petty", and "arrogant", amongst other more explicit terms. I decided it wiser not to mention that he was her contact, not mine. That he was dressed in a greyish purple (that Jaheira called "blue mauve") silk doublet and matching lopsided plumed hat did not alter my initial impression. Studded with pearls he managed to shimmer as he caught a ray of light through the skylights. His tone was high, snooty, and he peered down his nose through gold chained spectacles, as if examining a bug or an offending speck of dirt. He also smelt faintly of flowers, reminding me of Edwin. I instantly understood why Jaheira had forbade the others from coming; that she brought _me_ spoke volumes in my mind. She did not have to urge my silence, and I respected she did not.

"Spellhold."

Jaheira's eyes thinned; I frowned. The official turned back to his work.

"Ten thousand for that?" Her tone was dangerously low; I admired her restraint.

"My dear lady," he began in what I supposed he considered consoling? "You asked me to find out where the girl was taken. Let me tell you, it took quite some doing."

"And where," she growled, "is Spellhold?"

"Ah, that would cost you more." He straightened his papers, "But I see you are in no mood to negotiate. Deliver the coin to this address, and we'll see if a cartographer won't mark it on a map for you." Briefly, he fussed with his spectacle's gold chain, "You don't know how many favours I had to use to find this out for you."

"My thanks," I said abruptly, restraining Jaheira's balling left fist.

"Well, that's more like it. For that, I can tell you it's on an isle, oh, somewhere south, southwest of here." He scrawled some characters in an elegant hand, and without flourish handed me the folded slip of rose-scented parchment through two fingers.

I inclined my head.

"A pleasure; should you ever need to know anything else…"

"We'll find you."

"Quite so. Good day."

I didn't need to drag the fuming Jaheira far; her own stride kicked in, and her heels drubbed the tiles. It was a wonder she didn't wrench my arm out of its socket, or throw me off. Even before we'd taken five paces, the official was nose deep in his work.

The grandiose building with its gaudy arches and draped pillars did little for me; Candlekeep's marble floored halls had long ceased to impress.

As Jaheira composed herself with inhuman effort, I couldn't help but wonder why she was so irate. It had cost us just under a month, but we finally had a name, and soon, a location. If… Imoen could hold out that long…

"He was holding out on us this entire time," she fumed discretely; quite the feat considering, "he knew all along!"

I said nothing, but climbed into the carriage.

"Driver!" She thumped the roof as she took her seat, taking the note I handed to her. Her eyes thinned, "Waukeen's Promenade."

My blood turned to ice; that was where…

She took one look at me, then squeezed my hand. Gratefully, I squeezed back; I did not let go.

I was shaking when we got out. To the south, I could still see the ongoing repairs; nearby buildings still bore the scars of battle. Flashes of what happened came back to me; Imoen, hair and eyes wild, channelling raw power; our masked captor, the thieves… the cowls…

"Don't look," Jaheira instructed me, linking her arm through mine. "This way."

Like a child, she hurried me along; I wasn't trying to gawk, I just couldn't help it. Hanging from a merchant stall, I saw my face in a nearby bronze pan; it was ashen. Ducking into a shop, Jaheira led me inside; the conversation that passed between her and the old man was one I did not heed. All I remembered was Imoen throwing fire at our captor; the mask he wore looming down, his pitiless blue eyes… Jaheira's hand brought me back to the present. The ride 'home' did not register; that night, we fought.


	33. Shadows of War, part 5

I had seen such coldness from her before, but never directed at me; only her sharpness matched it. "Imoen never stopped talking about you. When she returned to Candlekeep with us, they told us how you had gone. She sat and cried for you. She was beside herself for days. When her blade found Sarevok, as she stared into his eyes, do you know what she told him? She told him that this was for her brother, for making her leave you. That if she had stayed, you would still be here. She left Baldur's Gate to look for you. Now you want to leave her? I had not thought it of Gorion to raise a coward. I see I was mistaken."

My silence met her words.

"I cannot force you to stay with us, but it was Gorion's wish that Khalid and I would be guardians to Imoen, and you." She quietened, but her tawny gaze was no less intense, "You were meant to be safe there, kept free from this. You were never meant to disappear; Gorion was never meant to die."

Imoen had said the same. None of this was new.

The half-elf flared up again, "Imoen would never have left you in the hands of a madman."

That stung; my calm only fuelled her temper. What she considered stubbornness, selfishness, blindness. "I can do nothing for her here."

"You cannot find her if you do not search for her. Fawh! I cannot talk sense into you."

I had nothing to say.

She called from her room, "Come Minsc, let us leave this one to find his own way." Hesitation, from Jaheira? "We will be here, if you change your mind."

"If you find her…" It crept out, unbidden.

"We will leave word." As abruptly as it had appeared, the flintiness failed, "Child, much has been spent, much given, and little paid for. We have all… lost. Running won't save her."

"Come with me," I knew she would not, could not, "we have the map. We can be through the Cloudpeaks, find a ship–"

"By which time Imoen could be dead!"

"Then we stay here, and do nothing."

"Do you think I like this? Let it play itself out, and then we shall charter a ship."

"Why not help the authorities uncover the source of this while you're at it?" Bitterness and sarcasm stung my words; she hardened. "It will take months–"

"You are the most stubborn, unreasonable–" She stopped herself before she could say anything else. "We will discuss this tomorrow."

The steel in her tone was final. I should have heeded it, but I did not.

"I am going to find a way to Imoen, with or without you. If it means splitting up, so be it. If I am wrong, you will still reach her; if you are wrong, I will–"

"And you think you can take our captor alone?!" Thundering, her voice shook the room, "You are fool enough to believe you can defeat him?!"

"Have you forgotten what I am?" The ice in my words should have shocked me; the rest of the house had fallen silent.

"No, I have not." Spitefully, she cast the words that were below her and we both instantly regretted; I for pushing her, her for rising to them, "It did not spare you the last time; indeed, it is the cause of your confinement!"

I turned and headed for the door. I did not care that my cheeks had reddened.

"Child…"

I wheeled around, "You are right." There was no acid; only damning acceptance, far, far worse. "Perhaps if I had been the one to slay Sarevok, I would have been stronger. If I had tromped around the mines, hunted bandits, learned how to wield a sword, and cast magic as she did, this wouldn't have happened. But I was _left at home_. My sister is gone, and I am trying to save her. I'm the quiet one, the shy one; the one who studies books. She's the heroine, not me. I should have been taken!"

I had not realised the truth of it until I had spoken; how much it hurt, it really hurt that _she_ had been taken; if I had been the strong one, she wouldn't be suffering right now. She might not even be alive. Jaheira's eyes reached out to me, hurting because of my hurt, seeking to comfort me. I could not bear it. "Let me rest," My eerie calm only caused more sympathy to rise in her; "Let me do what I can for her."

Even if I bled out, if I drained all my essence, she would live. Jaheira was right. Imoen would never abandon me. I strode from the room; rooted to the spot, her gaze held me long after I locked my door, sank into my bed and wept. When exhausted sleep finally took me, I did not bother to shed my clothes; all the gentle knocks and timid calls for me I ignored. Aerie, later Nalia; Jaheira left me to it. I felt her outside the door, but her knuckles fell short; perhaps she sensed through the wood I wasn't ready.


	34. Shadows of War, part 6

Life took on a semblance of normality after that. At breakfast, as had become our custom, we dined together, though Korgan, depending on the degree of his hangover, was fickle in his appearances. Aerie's continually worried looks started to grate; Nalia's slightly subtler, but equally anxious and sympathetic glances vexed me further. Jaheira said nothing, and a chill developed between the two of us. Minsc tried not to notice, but after trying to ask, was silenced by her sharp look and my silence. His mouth closed before a word could emerge.

Uncomfortable, our companions soon made their excuses and avoided us. Edwin had better things to do than get involved in a 'domestic', but even he tiptoed around us, though he would never admit it. For my part, I never said a word, but was painfully aware those that had not heard my admission directly had heard through others. That I blamed myself for not being strong enough to take my sister's place touched the heartstrings of Aerie, Nalia and the maids especially; and several accusing looks were levelled in Jaheira's direction. They seemed to think she should be the one to approach me, that as my "guardian", she had a responsibility. They did not understand the bond that had developed between the two of us; whatever 'maternal' feelings for me Jaheira had developed were not those of a regular mother. In her eyes, I was in the wrong.

I saw her point, but thanks to the guild war, no ships would travel. No mage would teleport us, even if we caused a ruckus on the scale of Imoen and our captor. That very afternoon, we had heard martial law was being declared, and those attempting to destroy "city property" would be put to death. Which left us with too few options, and why our fight had started in the first place I suspect. It didn't help that Jaheira was still wound up over her contact, or that Korgan and Minsc had stumbled back drunker than the lords that ruled this district.

It turned out the pair had overturned the inn's management, thanks to Minsc's outrage at the gladiatorial pit and the slaves being forced to fight against caged animals. Korgan, ever keen to spill blood, had supported Minsc in a touching show of loyalty, and a full scale riot had ensued. With the half starved, but veteran gladiators on the loose, they went after their masters and then tracked the cabal of slavers that supplied them, and blood ran through the streets. Local rabble and youth joined in with the uprising, and soon an entire district was aflame.

How they had achieved this bordered on the unbelievable, but thanks to the guild war, tensions were high to begin with. All it took was a single spark, and the tinderbox exploded. City Guards were brought in, and order restored at the point of a spear. The crowds fought back, hurling rocks, chamber pots and other projectiles at the law. Finally, the cowls appeared, and choosing to set an example, turned the slums to cinders. That was the price of resisting the law. No one was above the mandates of the cowls.

It was a disaster.

I don't know how many were killed, but those fleeing numbered many innocents; men, women and children. The poorest, the most desperate, all driven from their homes. The cowls had to act quickly to contain the fire, but since the government, temples and nobles were on the other side of the river, what did they care if a few beggars and worthless street rats died in a blaze? It would clear the land out for new development. Nalia and Aerie especially were devastated. Minsc was so dejected and forlorn, he drank himself past a stupor and was out for days.

Unfortunately, that wasn't even the worst of it. Athkatla was the only port around in any direction for leagues. With the shipping lanes stopped, food shortages began to appear. Waiting out the "siege" was _our_ best bet in Jaheira's view; she had not mentioned the day's riots or those that had occurred while we were away. It was the riots that prompted the crackdown, and now armed guards, both private and city, roamed the streets.

Surprisingly, Nalia agreed with me; regrouping at her ancestral keep was safer than remaining here. She couldn't know I wanted to try the pass that Sendai used a year before. I had not forgotten the Amnish noble, or what she had done to my pack. Negotiating the Cloudpeaks was a desperate measure, but at least I _could_ get a ship. Here? Not all the coin in the city could find me a crew and get me out. At first, refugees had flooded the docks; now they streamed out of the city. It was becoming a ghost town. Nightly, fires were lit; many tried to get across the river. All were pushed back. Like it or not, we were trapped here.

Confining herself in her chambers, Jaheira prowled like a lioness, determined to wear down the marble. Though I did not pace, I too retired to my room. No one stopped me.


	35. Shadows of War, part 7

The guild war raged on. Soon, it became a three-way war, the city guard joining the fray. When at last the paladins marched out their stronghold, I finally discovered the nature of the war. Led my our captor's sister, the night hunters sought to take over the city. It was not just the simple territorial dispute I had first imagined; that the thieves had struck at our captor because he provoked them. It was far more insidious. It was never about territory or control; it was about the dead.

If life was strength, unlife was a twilight mockery of it; a strength beyond that of the living. The dark ones built up an army from the ranks of the living, preparing for something greater. Yet within that lay another, even subtler cause. She was the distraction; the distraction that would allow her brother to move freely. Everything here was to buy him time, but time for what? As they prepared, we waited. As they grew stronger, we did nothing.

I should have used the opportunity to learn swordplay; to seek out Korgan's tutelage, Minsc's tuition. I should have begun learning magic from Edwin; wisdom from Aerie. I could have learnt so much from Nalia's library. All I did was walk within the dreams, leaving my body for extended periods of time. I searched and searched, but to no avail. From within my chamber, I watched as the war intensified. I pushed the limits of the dreaming; I discovered more about the nature of myself. Perhaps… I was learning.

More and more people went missing. Amidst the riots, growing civil disorder gripped the city. Panic spread like a plague, and open fighting took the streets. The forays of troops did little to quell the unrest. The cowls that apprehended Imoen seemed powerless to prevent the chaos; paladins armed with faith and stakes swept the streets, marching alongside squads of city guards. Mages appeared when needed, but the fighting took a darker turn. It had never been a pitched battle to begin with, but whether it was the thieves, vampires or both, homes were broken into. Backed into a corner, the thieves targeted anyone trying to root them out. Fear became a weapon as city officials were targeted; some were found drained of blood. The noble's and government districts barricaded themselves, and priests became the most sought after commodity, second to paladins. Bodyguards were demanded by the most powerful, and the Order of the Radiant Hart was spread thin.

The city was sealed. Thousands fled; soon the dead were burned in the streets, the fear of their rising too great.

And we? We found ourselves in a surreal oasis of calm. Beyond the walls, soldiers marched day and night; beacons were lit, and holy water sprinkled over the roads and rooms of the nobles. The priest's chanting could be heard faintly; the din across the river removed from us. Jaheira remained unapproachable; the servants were terrified of her and the events outside, no matter how much Nalia tried to soothe them. More than one young maid found herself with a slapped face, tears and tantrums being the cause, while the older ones kept a tight rein on their faces. Fear was still rife.

Every night, Aerie would pray, and every night things got worse. Edwin unsurprisingly was his usual smug self, the least affected, he cared little for the outside world as long as he had books to study. It was not as though he were truly callous; Imoen would never have cared for him if he were. I suspect he simply did not know how to deal with it, and instead lost himself in what he knew. I did not have that luxury.

Korgan and Minsc grew restless; I eventually set them to 'guard duty'. They took to casting stones at any birds foolish enough to fly overhead – they even got quite good at it. As supplies began to dwindle, Nalia's worry increased and found herself hard pressed to dissuade her servants fears. How could she, when she herself had begun to believe them? Her family's keep also weighed heavily on her mind. Aerie wondered over Qualye's fate, and slowly succumbed to the belief he was dead; it broke her heart. All this and more I was aware of.

As for me? Whatever had watched us at Nalia's keep still nagged in the fringes of my mind; it was a constant itch. I searched and searched for a means to get to Spellhold; since we had acquired the map, I had a rough idea where it was, but the city could not provide the means.

Then, when things were at their worst, I found it. The means to rescue my sister.


	36. The Way to Spellhold, part 1

The Way to Spellhold

That night, I visited Aerie; her room was closest to mine, and I had long since decided hers was the easier mind to convince. As she knelt, robed and in prayer, I laid a hand on her shoulder. "Come, your pleas have been answered."

She stared at me.

"We are getting out of here. Tonight." Then alleviating her confusion, I added, "Have faith, priestess. I will lead us out of this mess, to Imoen."

"I… believe you." Steadying her shaky voice, she affirmed, "I believe in you."

Had she know what I was, who my sire was, she might have chosen differently. "Gather your things."

Nalia was next.

"Trust me," I told her, and she did. No questions, just that same desperate, longing hope she had just before we cleared her home. She had lost her father; she did not know what became of her aunt; in her eyes, she only had her life left to lose. She was wrong.

It was days since anyone had seen me, and though food was brought and left outside my chamber, I had not eaten. In the dream, I had neglected my body; the servants believed I was fasting, purifying myself and gathering my strength. They saw me as akin to a monk, a paladin. They shied back, afraid to enter my presence; their unspoken whispers reached Nalia; had she begun to believe?

Minsc was sleeping. So was Edwin. Bleary eyed and gruff, Korgan demanded what I wanted, so I left him to his tankard. We were almost out; best to let him finish in peace; it might be his last.

"So. Have you come to gloat? To hear me say you were right?"

I blanched; her words stung more than they should.

"Well? Speak! Do not stand there like a quivering fool! Gorion raised better than that in you."

"I'm sorry." I said simply, my prepared speech crashing down around me, like bricks struck by a catapult.

She stared, then softened, the harsh glint fading. Whatever she had expected, it was not this. "Child…" She stopped, "Come in, close the door."

I had not anticipated this; my resolve began to fail. I couldn't stand this gentleness; I'd braced myself for a row, for a verbal beating–

Her hands found my shoulders; she held me, studied me, then sighed as everything I'd held together erupted into soundless, unstoppable tears. How long I sobbed into her shoulder I don't know. She smoothed my hair, letting me cry like the child she always named me as. Finally, after I cried myself out, she took my face in both hands, wiped around my eyes and held her own close to mine. I saw myself staring back, uncertain, hurting… broken. Afraid. A… mortal.

"I sometimes forget how fragile you are," she commented almost to herself, "Imoen would say how you hid your heart, how even your eyes did not reveal your thoughts. I forget how much you love her, when you are so calm… and I, who should be, am not.

"You were right; we should have left." Her thumb squeezed gently, "I should be supporting you, guiding and nurturing you, teaching you all I know. I have done none of that. Gorion made me your guardian, and ach, I miss him. I miss my Khalid. Kind, patient, strong, brave, dear gentle Khalid. I never told you of him, did I?"

My head answered with the barest shake.

"He… he was a fine man." Another sigh, "He would… you would have done well by him. In my own grief, I have neglected you; there is no excuse. You have been through far worse, live with worse… you will have my comfort, my support."

"Your trust?" I managed weakly, choked. Why was it so important to me?

"Silvanus forgive me," she breathed, "Yes, god-child, that and more."

I stared at her, unable to speak.

She watched me for a moment, "Perhaps… perhaps it is time we talked." She must have seen the confusion. "In all this time, we have walked together, ridden together, fought and suffered, but never talked. I have watched over you every night, every waking moment, and I have said little to you."

Guiding me to the bed, we sat. Distantly, she stared at the wall, beyond the wall; shaking her head slightly, she cleared her thoughts. "I never expected to have children; one day, perhaps, with Khalid. But not for many years. As half-elves… we always believe we have our whole lives ahead of us. Our pasts were troubled, not like yours, but… troubled still; Khalid's was worse. He would say mine was, but we always disagreed on many things concerning the other."

When she spoke again, it was not of her husband, "We agreed because we admired him, because he led us. Because he was… a father and brother to us both. Gorion. He was not just the sage you knew him as; kindly, sometimes, but patient? Only in later years. He… loved you both. He had many years left in him when he retired from this wandering life, this life of adventure, and freedom, of righting wrongs, aiding others, and sleeping in ditches. It's a life some aren't suited for."

"Like me?" I couldn't help myself.

She shook her head, "No child. You are more suited to it than most, though it is not a life you chose willingly. It was thrust upon you, as it was Imoen."

"I would choose it a thousand times, a thousand, thousand times if it meant she…"

"I know," Taking my hand, she squeezed it and sighed, "He taught us so much. We were honoured he had chosen us; there were others he might have chosen, but we – ach, I do not like to speak of the past. What's done is done, and remembering it – we have the presence to face."

Slowly I nodded, wondering about the good times, the bad, and found myself prompted to ask, "My mother… he never told me of her. Did he…? Did you?"

She closed her eyes, "Imoen's yes, yours? Perhaps. There were so many." Now she hesitated. "Tell me, child, do you know why we were chosen as your guardians?"

"How could I?"

Lips pursing, the half-elf allowed, "I suppose not. What about of your birth? Why you were brought to Candlekeep?" Her eyes had sharpened; she seemed to have reached a decision. I looked at her, waiting. "There is no reason for you to know, but… there is much you know that you should not."

"I figured out the dreams…" I felt the need to defend myself, though it was half hearted.

"Then it is time you knew." She stopped. "This isn't easy for me to say. You – all of. No. The truth. You deserve that much. Gorion, Khalid and I were part of an organisation." A flash of insight; that was where she got her contact from. "He, that is, Gorion, had heard – you know of Bhaal, what he did? Why you and your siblings are driven to kill each other?"

"So he can be reborn."

"None of you were ever meant to survive. Not you, not Imoen, not Sarevok. Not the rest; others, we don't know about. Some smuggled away, trained as tools for destruction, a means to an end."

"Is that what I am?"

The look she gave me caused me to wilt, then blush. "Sorry…"

"You were all to be sacrificed. The alters were prepared, the rituals in place. Your own mothers, the priestesses of Bhaal. The knives had already descended on some when we burst in. In the chaos, the confusion of battle, some fled. We didn't end all the priestesses that day. We knew there were other temples, but we did not know where. Against the better judgement of our superiors, we assaulted the temple. It was impossible to tell which child belonged to which mother; only magic flew, and blades crashed. The skeleton guards, the chief cleric; we fought them while Gorion tried desperately to save you."

"…Me?"

"You, and the rest of your siblings. He believed that you were not monsters; despite the darkness inside, you deserved the choice to command your own destinies, that if you were given that chance, you could overcome your nature. That you and your siblings could be a force for good."

"…So I was a tool."

She tensed to slap me, but stayed her hand at the last. Her arm never lifted. If it had, I would not have blamed her; somehow, she understood the resentment. Instead, she took me by the chin, and pressed her lips to my brow. I realised then that while cloistered away, we had been raised as children, with trouble-free childhoods. We had been sheltered from the world as much was as humanly possible. We had been loved, were loved…

"You… held me, back then?"

Her nod confirmed it, though she did not question how I knew. "You and Imoen. I believed you were monsters, all of you, that you should be destroyed, and then I looked into your eyes. You were helpless, innocent. I knew Gorion was right. I had the chance to end the threat from one temple, but when I had the sword in my hand, I could not."

"But… why would – if they… my mother…"

"Without the ritual, it was believed the essence would not return to Bhaal." She hesitated, voicing what we both knew, "Sarevok's fall… proved otherwise. Had we slain you, we only would have hastened his return. The ritual – I don't know if it was a farce, a trick, or if it would have brought Bhaal back, but… as long as you are alive, he cannot return, not fully."

"Then I… Imoen…"

"You told me the skull in the dreams lied."

"It wants me to kill my siblings. All of them." I sighed, "To bring back Bhaal." Aloud I wondered, "If there are more priestesses left…"

"Only some know the ritual, and those are few. We have hunted down those we can, but the children… the spawn…"

"They seek to take his place." Resting my cheek against her shoulder, I closed my eyes, "Imoen told me Sarevok's intention." I hesitated, "My… intention."

Sharply, she drew in her breath. Had she recoiled, I would have been heartbroken; she stayed very, very still.

"The night… when Imoen left, when I thought Gorion abandoned me… when Hull pushed me from the walls… I later realised what it would cost, for others… for myself."

"And now?" Her tone was careful, neutral.

I shook my head and clung to her arm, "I just want my sister back."

I felt her smile, proudly, sadly, and the hand that would have slapped me reached to stroke my hair, fingers lacing through it. Finally, I looked up, "What of Imoen's mother?"

Sudden anguish lit her eyes, and pain, deep, enduring pain of a wound that had never healed. Fear gripped me; her hold did not release, and slowly, she spoke, "Her name was Aliana. A… forgive me, child, it is hard, even after so long. Gorion loved her; she was beautiful. Her charm was such that she lit the most miserable of days with the joy of sunshine."

"Like Imoen."

"Yes, like Imoen."

"What happened?"

"I don't know. None of us do, except Gorion, and he refused to speak of it. Khalid and I broached him on several occasions, together, alone… it was the one thing he would not tell."

"What do you think happened?"

"I… somehow, there was a row, an argument. What it was over, I don't know. I suspect it was over Imoen. She… Bhaal did not just take the willing, and those he took, he corrupted. I know she wanted to keep the child, and Gorion at that time, wanted to destroy it. Like the rest of us, he believed you all to be an abomination. She… she was the only one who did not. When she took the robes, it was not – I have pieced together no more details. All I know is she fell in Gorion's arms that night we saved you, and as she lay dying, he vowed to raise her child as his own. Had Bhaal not… they would have married, had their own life."

"But you said Gorion believed we could be saved…"

"He did. But only at the moment of Aliana's death, after she shielded you, Imoen and Sarevok with her own flesh. It was then… everything changed."

"Gorion… he was the one…"

"Yes, child. It was his lightning that felled her. And we… we participated in it. Bhaal's power, even though he was dead, compelled her, but she resisted. Her knife had not lifted; I now know she never had any intention of ever sacrificing her babe, and would have sacrificed herself to save you all."

For a long while, we sat in silence. Eventually, she brushed herself down, "Well now," her tone levelling to its usual self, "you came to tell me were are leaving?"

After half a moment, she added, "Close your mouth, child, you look foolish."


	37. The Way to Spellhold, part 2

I should not have dreamt of Imoen; the waking dream I stepped into was there for me to scout a path, to find a way to the walls; we would run the blockade. Once we left the city, there would be no return until the guild war was resolved. The sewers were too dangerous, even if I could convince Aerie to enter them. The vision of being in darkness under earth, rock and mortar, city streets and buildings made me shudder; it would terrify her.

Nalia might refuse that road; even if we took it, it was a battlefield of thieves and vampires, and other dangers. Not to mention the rotting swell of the city's refuse. Unless Edwin had been holding out on us, he knew no portal spells; even if he did, the magical embargo the cowls had put on the city restricted "unauthorised access."; we'd have a dozen of them on top of us. Bribe the guards? Always a possibility, but money could leave a trail, and we did not want to be mistaken for thieves.

I had been considering the problem of this dilemma; we could disguise ourselves as refugees, take a cart out, assuming we could skip the fortified points along the river, but that led us into the chaotic unknowns where murder and skirmishes ran rampant. Given what I was, perhaps it would have been an ideal place for me and others of my kind, but I was not that person.

The sirines had taught me how to bend light, blend into my surroundings; veil myself from the eye. Myself, I could manage, though I had little reason to use it; unlike my sirines, I did not stand in just my skin, and my clothes faded too. In the dream, I could make others not notice me, or hold their attention captive, so others could slip past; I wondered how much I could conceal, if, as I concentrated, I could hide a table; a door, a room? Two people? Seven people?

Mine was not the magic of wizards; Aerie herself had said so. I could hide my power, the well inside; could I actively mask it from detection? Heat, light sound; these things were easy. There were still… traces of a person; scent, yes, but more… something deeper. Veiling those took more focus. If I could hold it for long enough, we could be up and over the wall before anyone knew. But what of the safeguards, the wards? How powerful would they be; could I break them? Could Edwin? That would certainly alert them to us. A distraction elsewhere? But they would still feel their perimeter being breeched.

But perhaps there was one thing they had not counted on. If we could make it to the river, we could settle into the current; allow ourselves to be swept out, and row back to the shoreline. Debris floated down there all the time; they would be watching for others trying to come in, not get out. For that, though, we needed a craft; and there was nothing to guarantee we would not be shot by the guards.

As it happened, a far simpler, and elegant solution was found. The "Lady De'Arnise" merely sent word to those of her father's friends, including one Keldorn Firecam, a senior paladin in the Order of the Radiant Hart, explaining she no longer felt safe in the city and wished to return to the sanctity of her ancestral home. She was leaving tonight, with a small but trusted escort, and expected the gates to be opened to her; she would sooner brave the night and the unknown than remain another day in uncertainty. No matter what was said, she insisted, and unless they intended to physically restrain her, compromising her honour, person and the aristocratic elite's integrity, they would allow her on her way.

For once, her demanding nobility came in useful; unfortunately, the old paladin assigned us an escort of city guard led by an acolyte of his order, one Anomen Delryn. He would arrival shortly.

While I pondered and plotted, mulling over the whys, hows, wheres and whens, I saw my sister. Black faced, afraid; chilled, as if death's grip had found her. Her eyes no longer shone; she seemed… broken. Even in the dream, I found her distant, as if lost in reflection, in her own reflection, as she stared endlessly.

I told her to hold on, that we were coming; was I too late a second time? Had I failed her again? As I reached into the depths of my essence, plunging into the divine wellspring, something flickered; a tinge of recognition. Her lips lifted, but the smile never reached her eyes; a silent scream rose up from the very depths of her; vast emptiness… a hole… All faded to black, dragging me with it; her image shrinking fast. The scream within her turned into my own; with a cry, I awoke, horror fleeing my lips.

She was woken, and so was I.

Someone called my name; I did not hear them. They shook me, trying again, "…What is it? What's wrong?"

"Imoen," I gasped, "He – he… she's… empty." It did not make sense, but that was the only way I could explain; "He's… _taken_ something – she's not herself. She's… gone."

Fury filled me, and its power was great indeed; this was what the skull had been waiting for. So white hot was my rising wrath, it swelled like the tide, like the great waves; the storm that shook the mountains. I had become my father's image, his avatar. So great was the power, I could have flattened a wall; ground it to dust, just as Imoen had. My eyes glowed as hers, as Sarevok's; I felt the taint, the sickly film, the dirty, defiling presence, and beneath my power, my inheritance, I felt the skull. I felt its anticipation, its whispers, its lust for destruction – for murder. I felt it urging me in silence to test the limits, to find I had none, that I could be more than this, greater than any mortal. The same lies it told the rest of my siblings.

I felt the shock of my companions; how they drew back, primal instinct warning them against the horror of my rage. Of my power. I demanded fear; I deserved to be worshipped. The skull did not have to say these things; I _felt_ it in my bones, in my blood. My blood became power; it coursed through me. My very essence, my very being was _power_. I was a _god_. A god in mortal form; this image of flesh, this veil of frailty; it was the lie I was trapped in. I could overcome it, surpass it. All I need do was give way to my power, to unleash the constraints; I need only use it once, and the gate would be open. I was greater than Sarevok, greater than all of my siblings; I could destroy our captor.

Aerie's eyes were wide, terrified; Jaheira's had hardened, her hand on her belt knife. I could have crushed her before she ever drew it. Nalia stopped still in the doorway; Minsc, who was a step behind, asked what was wrong, looked up, saw me, and fear painted his gaze; they were in the presence of the force all men fear when confronted by the rawness of power; the presence that drew believers from all nations; the sculpting of sheer might. I towered above these _insects_.

Sarevok's eyes had been golden; mine were white, twin points of light. I blazed like the sun; not even Imoen shone so brightly. She was puny compared to the strength I held. I could crush her, crush all of them. My destiny was to rule, to take my place amongst the greatest of gods, and after my ascension, I would be the greatest. None could stop me; I would murder them, as I murdered my siblings. No god would stand against me; I would take the power of all of them! Even the Overfather was nothing compared to _my_ domain. I would murder my father's shade, and seize his throne!

A flicker of confusion halted the wave; I stopped. Seize his throne? Crush… Imoen? No, that wasn't what I wanted. I wanted to restore Imoen. Yes, I could do that and more; I could do anything! It didn't matter–

Imoen mattered, the small thought whispered.

The power was what mattered! The power to do anything–

But why would I want that? Wasn't the why to save her? To keep her from harm?

Nothing would ever harm her again! I would crush our captor, destroy any who stood against me!

Is that what I wanted? Is that who Imoen wanted? A destroyer?

She was weak! The skull thundered, weak! Weak enough that she was captured, tortured; that she could not destroy her foes! Weak for having not killed me!

Why would I want her to kill me?

Because she will betray me! It is in her blood! Her very nature is murder! Just as yours is!

The memory of a promise; small, clinging. Together, we said.

Fool! Such weakness is what led to this! Destroy her and rid yourself of the chains! She is the cage, the true cage!

Is that what you told her?

She was too weak, and so are you! You have the power! Use what has been given to you! Destroy them! Begin with these, these things that are less than you! Destroy them!

Destroy… Jaheira? She was staring at me intently; awe, fear, suspicion, doubt. Hadn't she just held me as I wept? Her warmth as I rested my head on her shoulder?

MORTAL WEAKNESS. RID YOURSELF OF IT.

She had become like family…

SHE WILL DESTROY YOU. END HER. IT IS WHAT YOU ARE. YOU WERE BORN FOR SACRIFICE; I DEMAND AN OFFERING OF THE SLAIN. BRING ME HER BLOOD–

I love you. Imoen's words, as I drifted, alone and lost in darkness, trapped in a jar…

ENOUGH! YOU ARE MY CREATURE! YOU SHALL NOT DEFY ME–

Do you remember… Candlekeep? The storms we watched? How safe we felt? You and me, together, where nothing could hurt us? How the darkness couldn't reach us? Because we were together? You stole my books, teased me, but you were always there…

YOU WILL OBEY–

My… sister. If I cannot be with you, cannot see your smile, hear your laugh, if we cannot laugh together, the world is an empty dream from which I long to awaken… I cannot let you die.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING? STOP!

I love you.

YOU CANNOT! THIS IS YOUR _ESSENCE_. YOU CANNOT DENY YOUR NATURE–

I saw her face, and poured life into the husk, filling the emptiness with my own. Dizziness hit me in waves, but still I poured.

 _NO–_

More and more, like scoping water in my hands at first, then a bucket; a trickle became a flood. Light sprang back into her eyes, and I fell to my knees.

As darkness descended, Edwin walked in, oblivious to the exchange. "Well?" he snapped, his voice growing faint in my ears, "Why are you all standing there? (Don't these simians have better things to do than stand and gawk?)" His eyes locked onto mine; I felt like I was floating, drifting… a vision of golden dust, shimmering, rising inside me. Was I dreaming? Everything faded.

 _Nothingness_.


	38. A Better Way, part 1

A Better Way

"You fool." Jaheira hissed, "Of all the idiotic, mule-headed… by the horns of Silvanus, I should – you stubborn, _blind_ fool!"

My eyes cracked open; everything was a blur. Slowly, my sight aligned itself, adjusting for the sharp sunlight. It felt warm, smoky, burning wood; I felt constrained. Blankets. My… cell? Candlekeep? No… Nalia's.

"I should kill you myself!" She fumed, "Don't you _dare_ die on me! We haven't finished this!"

"Ja-Jaheira?"

"Child! You're awake! Praise Silvanus, I–" Rushing to side, she checked my brow, eyes, held my chin, "Can you hear me? How do you feel?"

"Hungry…"

"If you ever pull such a stunt again, I – I'll–" The tirade halted as abruptly as it had started, "You…" She caressed my cheek with a forefinger, "you foolish, foolish boy." Tears formed; something I never thought I'd see from her, and then she hugged me tightly, planting her lips in my hair. I felt the hot liquid fall, lost amidst my locks. One ran down to my parched lips; I tasted salt. Feebly, I tried to raise my arm and failed.

She leaned back, tawny eyes fierce, "Promise me you'll never, _never_ do that again!"

"I can't–"

"Damn you!" For an instant, I feared she would slap me, "Why are you all so selfish? How nobly you give yourselves; do you ever think of those leave you behind?!"

"She was… dying…"

" _And so were you!_ " She all but screamed, "How can I protect you if you won't let me? Must you make me fail this vow too?! I couldn't protect Imoen; I promised Gorion and – you – you…" She turned away.

"Jaheira…"

"No! I will hear no more of it!"

"I'm… I'm sorry I scared you."

"No you're not! If you were, you'd promise not to do so again!"

Back still towards me, I stared at her, and sighed slowly. "You said I was… dying?"

"Yes! I couldn't stop it! _Something_ stopped it; someone! It wasn't any of us."

"…Imoen…" The word came to my lips unbidden; a flash of memory, a memory of a memory. Something in her… halted it.

"You were dissipating, like Sarevok!"

I closed my eyes. I had failed.

"Don't you dare go to sleep on me!"

"I… Imoen… she…"

There was nothing either of us could say. Finally, Jaheira demanded, wheeling around, "Why? Why then?"

"She… needed me. I… I was losing. The skull… all I could think of was… wrath. It told me to destroy her, destroy you… it would have won. She… she is everything, everything that is left. He – _he_ took something from her… she was fading, dying… I couldn't… all…" The effort to speak was too much; my throat closed up. Slowly, Jaheira nodded, tears welling up anew.

"I thought I'd lost you," she whispered, then ashamed, couldn't look at me, "I… I was preparing to end you."

"I know…" My eyes flittered shut, "The skull told me. I… couldn't. Wouldn't. It tried to make me. It almost succeeded. Next – next time–"

Jaheira shook her head, "It couldn't."

"It did. It called me a sacrifice… demanding an offering."

"You sacrificed yourself for your sister." Her light touch brought me back; I squeezed my eyes open. "For an instant… I thought I saw…" She shook her head, sighed, and after a moment, finished, "Bhaal's taint was upon you; in your eyes I saw crimson, rivers… oceans of blood. I saw… a skull. Before you… before you fell, I saw… something else. Something… deeper. For a heartbeat… I saw love. Your love." Closing her eyes, she shook herself, "I… forgive me for ever doubting you. What I saw… what they all saw… you… you truly love her. Even more than yourself."

Slowly, I nodded.

Her embrace was fierce; almost smothering me. Her warmth, so firm, so reassuring, gave me something to cling to. Somehow, my mouth worked of its own accord.

"It… it doesn't understand, can't understand. The… skull."

Through widening eyes, she nodded, then again, more firmly. I felt her resolve steel itself. "It cannot," she agreed finally, "that is always the way."

Despite everything, the darkness within didn't rule.

Softly, she kissed my brow, "Rest child." She smoothed my hair, "rest."


	39. A Better Way, part 2

The others did not approach me; I understood their reluctance. When I emerged for dinner that night, I felt the awkward stares at everything other than me. Edwin, who did not know what had gone on, was still oblivious, and Korgan was too busy drinking to care about much else. At least some things remained constant. A new arrival at the table had taken my place at the foot; I slipped in next to Aerie. She didn't say anything, but I felt her recoil. Instead, I studied the newcomer to my right. He was young, tall; brash. His complexion held the olive cast of the Amnish; his bearings and features marked him as a noble. A scar or two lined his face, and his black curls were oiled. Edwin sat opposite me, and the muttered glares he fixed on the man spoke volumes.

I had not prepared to say anything, but he left me little choice; in a strong accent I could not quite place, he lifted his silver wine-cup, "I see your companion has returned; to your health!"

With noticeable unwillingness, the others joined his toast; the exception being Korgan, who drained his tankard, banged it on the table, and a maid hurried ran up and poured him more. The 'pat' to her rump he rewarded her with was an audible smack, and Aerie's frown was met by raucous laughter. Nalia was still too pale to object, but shakily lowered her cup; she hadn't sipped at all.

"I, my good fellow, am Anomen Delryn, soon to be Sir Delryn of the Radiant Hart."

I inclined my head.

"Lost your tongue? Well! Perhaps a spot of wine will find it for you again!"

Suddenly it hit me where I had heard the accent; not quite as strong as this, but the faint twang… "Laurel," I whispered, my eyes wide.

"Eh? I can't quite hear you; speak up, sir!"

Closing my eyes, I shook my head, "Forgive me, I'm still not quite with it."

"That's quite all right, quite all right. I understand you took quite the blow to the head, falling on the marble like that! Something spook you, what?"

I did not need to look at Jaheira to know it was her who spread that; the others were too afraid not to keep their silence.

"A rat… or perhaps a bat at the window?" I suggested, knowing he would immediately jump to conclusions.

"Ah, yes, well, quite understandable. Unfortunate business, that, but rest assured, I and the rest of my order will root those blood-suckers out, if you'll pardon the vulgarity, milady." He inclined his head towards Nalia; she returned it with the slightest dip of her own. "Felled three of them myself; quite the battle, let me tell you. Staked them and threw holy water on the remains; they'll not rise again!"

At this point, Korgan guffawed, and immediately the two began to try to outdo each other with tales of bravery and past battles – real and imagined. They became more and more heavily embroidered, with prowess and daring, and neither heard the rest of table's silence. I stopped listening, and glanced at both Aerie and Nalia in turn. Neither met me, and looked away.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to the elf beside me; it wasn't acknowledged.


	40. A Better Way, part 3

After the main course was finished, I excused myself, pleading a headache. No one stopped me, though three sets of eyes followed me. Only Jaheira's were concerned, but she masked it. Delryn immediately tried to regale them with tales of his journey through some desert, drawing Nalia's gaze back to him. She smiled faintly; his blue eyes shone. I turned my back on the pair.

Sleep claimed me quickly, and I awoke late the next morning; I found that I had tarried too long in bed, and my muscles demanded I move. So I did. I found myself a nice windowseat, in a secluded corridor devoid of drapes and tapestries. The arrowloop let me see the distant trees and hills beyond, the blue sky and sunshine. Then a flicker of blue caught my eye; from its corner, I glimpsed Nalia, lying on the grass, chin resting in her palms, and lounging against a tree, one leg stretched out, Delryn sang what I presumed was poetry. A lyre sat beside him, and Nalia wore a garland of daisies and other flowers in her brown hair.

It tugged at me, and I felt a deep pang of sadness; it wasn't jealousy; hadn't I wanted her married off? But… the distance, her retreat. I deserved it, but… finding solace in another, as if I did not exist? Had our past battles meant nothing? I knew I had done my utmost to discourage her pursuit of me.

Aerie's avoidance didn't help either; while I didn't care for her whining, I had grown used to her quiet presence. Now she just stared down and walked around me, or waited until I'd gone. Jaheira just gave me space, and Minsc? Minsc just sat drinking and talking to that orange rat of his. The poor man seemed confused, and unsure how to approach me, he tried to puzzle it out for himself. Unfortunately, I wasn't ready to face him. He knew what Imoen was, surely? He had been there with her. Why did he find me so strange? Or perhaps it was his fear he found so strange. I'm not sure he'd ever known it, and something inside had broken. For the first time, he had faced a foe he could not fight: a friend.

Delryn acted like lord of the manor; as if he owned the castle. Everything about him was 'knightly'; he was every inch the noble, right down to the arrogance filled courtesy. Small wonder Edwin despised him. Had I been willing to accept the snide comments, I would have made my way to the library. After a few more moments, I did.

Edwin and I sat opposite ends; it wasn't deliberate, it was just where our interests lay, I think. So deep was he in his book, that he did not even look up at me; I followed suit, and for the better part of four hours, he was unaware of me, and I only distantly of him. When he did finally look up with a stretch, he frowned; I only noticed because his hand blocked the sunlight. I did not nod, but simply resumed my reading. Evidently, that impressed him, for he did the same.

When the gong for dinner eventually sounded, we had spent the better part of six hours in silent company. Neither one of us broke that as we made our way down to the table, and took our assigned places. As before, Delryn took the table's foot.

Just before he could start bragging about ogres, fair maidens and heroic knights, Edwin and I met each other's gaze; his flickered with disdain at another night of tedium, and mine must have held veiled dislike, because we both saw something and mutually agreed. Edwin spoke first, cutting Delryn off as the would-be knight's mouth opened. Before he could interject, I answered. Edwin almost smiled; and thus, began the makings of a beautiful friendship.

'Academia Magicka Ecology' was our topic; the tome I had been studying that afternoon. I had flicked through it, and settled on the region I knew best; the Cloudpeaks. Edwin, however, knew more of Thayan ecology, as one would expect, and we began discussing the differences between the two. Many quotes flew across the table, each in front of the braggart ogre slayer. Every time he tried to join in, we shifted to a slightly heavier topic.

"I met a Frost Giant once," Delryn began.

"The 'winter wolves' they keep to guard their lairs," I cited, "are indigenous to only a few regions. Their immunity to cold makes them valued for their pelts. Their icy breath makes them a dangerous foe."

Edwin countered, "The wyverns of Thay inhabit the rocky peaks, and are hunted for their venom." As Delryn tried to speak about wyverns, the wizard calmly spoke of the properties of the venom, their alchemistic value, and how one could distil it for spell components. I immediately answered that the fang of the winter wolf was used not only as a talisman, but when powdered, could be ingested or used to add magical properties to a weapon, or other item.

Back and to we spoke, and finally, defeated, Delryn gave up. He rose from his throne-like chair, a chair I had never sat upon; Nalia's aunt's chair, and finished his wine in one, and suggested that everyone leave "the mages to their lore" and share port, brandy and cheese with him beside the fire.

To my immense pleasure, not only Jaheira declined, but Aerie as well; the elf had even borne the faintest smile. Nalia, however, was less than impressed, and sweetly accepted 'Anomen's' "gracious offer", stressing his first name with a radiant smile of her own.

Korgan slid off his keg (which had become a fixture), and as usual, made his way to the storeroom. I had not been surprised to learn he had started brewing his own ale in the keep. Minsc joined him, still dejected; I felt awful to see the tall, muscled mountain of a man so low.

As soon as the two Amnish nobles had gone, Jaheira fixed us both a stern look, "That was not very nice," she chided, but couldn't quite keep her lips from twitching.

Edwin and I just looked at each other, then roared with laughter; a huff and a soundly shut door followed, making us laugh even more. Even Aerie smiled, though it was shy, and almost unwilling. Turning to her, I offered her my hand, and after brief hesitation, she accepted, and stepped down. Jaheira's eyebrow raised slightly; I signed a shrug to her now Aerie's back was turned. It did not hurt to be courteous. Edwin snorted, to which the elf stiffened; I rolled my eyes at him, and his only response was to sip his wine.

We all enjoyed the silence; after staring into the fire for a moment, Aerie turned to me, her eyes odd, searching. "I don't think I've ever heard you laugh before," then added simply, "thank you."

Mystified, I asked, "For what?"

She nodded to my hand.

"Oh."

It was Jaheira's turn to snort, though it was far softer; I flushed crimson, much to Edwin's amusement, and failing to conceal a snigger; failing to _bother_ , that was, I felt all the more sheepish. Aerie blushed too, then smiled, hesitantly squeezed my hand and I realised everything was all right between us again. She bid me goodnight with a peck to my cheek, and chillingly, I recalled her words the night after we had taken the keep; _"I like you too."_. "Goodnight, boys." Jaheira's amusement was enough to make me weep. Upon reaching the door, she added over her shoulder, "Play nice."

What had I let myself in for? My groan was audible as soon as she was out of earshot, and Edwin guffawed. I threw Delryn's napkin ring at him. A single gesture from him, and before his wrist had flicked, it cascaded to the floor in a trail of fire.

Two hours later, Nalia found us sipping wine with our feet up on stools; we'd apprehended a low table and in front of one of the two fires, we alternated between reading books, playing chess and discussing the odd piece of lore. I rather suspect Jaheira saw us as a pair of schoolboys, and she may even have been right. I found my respect of Edwin strangely increasing, and his surprise at finding a fellow scholar and someone he could actually converse with on a near equal level an unexpected turn of events. While my knowledge of magical lore was shaky at best, I had studied a lot of other things, many of which interested the Thayan wizard. Listening to him now, I understood what Imoen saw in him; despite the smug, sarcastic comments lay a razor sharp wit, and our mutual annoyance left me in deep appreciation of it.

For the first time, I seriously considered him as a brother-in-law, and to my astonishment, I wasn't opposed. He had been steadfast, despite his remarks, and his complaints, though passing, were not so grating I could not overlook them. His spellcraft was flawless, if I was honest; he was one of the best practitioners I'd ever seen, and while at first glance had the ego to match, there was a great deal more. I began to understand his dry humour, and with it, I found myself infected, much as I suspect, Imoen had. I could only wonder why it had taken me so long to see it. Perhaps because I didn't want to, because Imoen was mine. I recalled when I had confronted him, in the cellars below; he was no less committed to finding her than I was. In spite of his love of finery, he carried surprisingly little; almost none of his share had been spent on frivolity, and I suddenly questioned where the rest went.

While I considered him in this new light, Nalia did not. Hands on her hips, she faced us down, positively steaming, "I don't know what game the two of you are playing, but it ends now," she hissed, "Anomen is sweet, caring and considerate; he actually appreciates me! I won't have you humiliating him like that!"

Guiltily, I avoided looking at the charred napkin ring; instead, I glanced at Edwin, who sipping his wine, arched an eyebrow and shrugged slightly.

"I'm telling you both now," she leaned towards me, "you _won't_ do this again, do you hear me?!" She did not quite grit her teeth, but her low hiss hid shame and hurt; ignoring Edwin, I retracted my feet, rose and looked her in the eye. That she had to lift her head to meet mine did not sway her an iota.

"If I have offended you, my lady, then I ask your forgiveness," I apologised formally; I could exercise manners too. There was not a trace of insincerity in me, and try as she might, she could not find any. Convinced I was mocking her, or her precious 'Anomen', she whirled and strode from the room, head high and hips swishing.

Leaning around the armchair, Edwin watched her, and commented softly, "Women."

I couldn't help but agree with him.

Seconds later, I heard a door crash. A few moments later, a couple of rooms away, what sounded like a vase or other breakable struck the wall; it was my turn to arch my eyebrow. Edwin shrugged and leaned back, his book open on his chest. His eyes closed; then he squinted, and nudged his pawn forward, "Check."


	41. A Better Way, part 4

The next day, I felt enough of myself to head outside; Jaheira had pointedly reminded me that "fresh air" would do me "good", and I didn't feel like arguing. Edwin, as usual, was in the library, and honestly, I didn't feel like another day cooped up inside; there was too much of a good thing. He didn't seem to miss me, or lack any kind of company; I knew the feeling well: he had his books; what more did he need?

The inner courtyard had a fountain, and creepers trailed up the trellised archways; I sat at the pool staring into the lilies, allowing the sun to cast its gaze upon me. I lost track of how long I sat, my eyes closed, just appreciating the simple warmth, but a subtle step warned me I was not alone. Thinking it was Jaheira come to check up on me, or round two with Nalia, I looked up with a sigh – only to find Aerie. She was dressed in her usual pale blue robes, though this time, she seemed to be wearing a dress with them, and the robes open, like a mantle. Hanging back, she touched a forefinger to the white flowers lining the creeper, and brushed its petal. Her eyes shifted to me, and after a few steps around the trellis, she spoke.

"I… I'm sorry about you and Nalia," she began quickly, her gentle voice soft, "I mean, I – I know you weren't together, but… s-she's being unfair."

I had nothing to say to that.

She kept walking, slowly, with elfin grace, "I – I'm glad though."

I groaned inwardly.

Watching me for a moment, she sat beside me, her hands unconsciously smoothing her folds.

"It's what I wanted," I told her, realising the truth of it, "Delryn's everything she looks for; I'm not." She waited for me to go on, "I'm a scholar from what amounts to a monastery; I'm not noble-born, I have no connections, and…"

"You scared her," she said quietly, looking down, "you scared all of us."

I sighed silently; so this was it. Somehow, I knew it would come back to this. "Imoen–"

"You don't have to explain," Quickly, she stopped me, "I mean, you don't need to."

Again, I sighed; I owed her. Closing my eyes, I let the words bubble up, "She was dying. I felt it. I… I walk in dreams, Aerie. I always have, for as long as I remember, and for as long as I remember, she has been there, my sister. I felt… something change; something happened to her. That mage, our captor, he took something… I…"

She nodded slowly; by now, I was staring into the pool.

"Rage filled me; everything I had, I channelled into her – not the anger, the…"

"I know," she interrupted just as softly as before, "I felt it, we all did." Now she hesitated, firmed, and faced me, hands clasped in her lap, "that… thing… you did, it's of no magic I know. I t-told you once how it felt, back with the trolls,"

I nodded.

"This was… I – I've never felt such power; the trolls… that – that was a drop in the ocean; this was a f-flood." Chewing her lip, she whispered, "You're not – not j-just a scholar. An-and Imoen's not j-just y-your sister." She was trembling now, but stilled herself with an effort. "Jaheira told me about wh-what happened in Baldur's Gate, with – with Sarevok."

The frown marred my brow before I could stop it.

"I – I asked. I – I had heard ru-rumours, and tales fr-from my uncle Quayle. He – he told me about the – the…" She dared not say it; I waited. Finally, she lifted her eyes and looked me straight in mine, "Bhaalspawn."

I neither confirmed nor denied it; my features remained schooled, calm.

"Th-that was the rumour. The authorities denied it, bu-but some believe a-another Bh-Bhaalspawn killed him."

As she searched, I offered nothing, less than nothing, and in so doing, allowed her her answer.

"I – I did not believe it, no-not until that night, back – back at the townhouse." Her hands gripped her dress, "I – I saw what l-lurks inside you; a monster. I sensed dar-darkness. Blacker than n-night. I saw mu-murder in your heart, in y-your eyes. The-they glowed."

Sighing I leant back; I had to give her her due; for someone who gazed upon Bhaal's shade, she showed remarkable courage sitting so close to me that our knees almost touched. What could I say to any of this? Yes, I was a terrible Bhaalspawn, born of Murder, and my destiny was to kill the rest of my siblings, and seize my dead sire's throne? What would that achieve?

Perhaps eyes really were the 'windows to the soul'.

I don't know what prompted me to ask, but the question left my lips before I realised I had spoken, "What else did you see?"

Now she hesitated, thoughtful, considering. It was a few moments before she answered. "S-struggle. I saw struggle. You… fight this monster daily," she realised with a start, staring at me in horror, "merciful gods… h-how can you bear it?"

"I…" Closing my eyes, I shook my head, "It lies. All it does is lie. It wants me to kill; not just kill, murder. It wanted me to murder…"

"Your sister… she really is, isn't she?"

I nodded slowly.

"Oh… I am… I'm so sorry." Leaning over, she kissed me gently, eyes welling with sympathy, her hand light on my shoulder; I felt another's step halt midway; I looked up to see Nalia. Eyes and cheeks flaming, she turned and strode away; had we been lovers, I would have called out. We were not, and I had done nothing wrong. Why did I feel so absolutely wretched? I wanted nothing more than to veil myself from the sight of mortals, but I dared not even reach inside to see how much I had left.

I doubted I could even light a candle now.


	42. A Better Way, part 5

Later, I found her. In a corridor, alone. Her eyes were furious, but her cheeks were stained. It was night; we had both missed dinner. Interrupting her pacing, she whirled on me, livid and spitting fire; well, almost. I did not take the step back I thought I would, but holding my ground only gave her a target.

"What do you want?" she snapped, drawing herself upright. I noticed the rug under her feet matched her colours; blue lined with red. I sighed.

"May we talk?" The gentleness of my words stopped her, but only for a moment.

Invoking the chill of all her aristocratic upbringing, and years of witnessing others sneer down their noses, she became the very thing she had tried so hard to avoid. I was not unsympathetic. Cold silence answered me.

"Nalia…" I began, then stopped; this was going nowhere. Behind her defences, it was useless trying to reach out to her. "Goodnight," I allowed finally, and turned to leave.

Her words struck like a vase shattering against a wall; I was grateful she had the self control not to lob anything at me. The barbs she used were venom; "This is your idea of _talking_? If that's all you came to say, then go! Get out!"

I froze. Carefully, I turned around, "Why are you so upset?"; it was perhaps the worst thing I could have said.

"Upset? You think too much of yourself!"

I winced at that one, though I did not show it. I merely waited.

"You dare to mock me further?"

"We can't talk if you don't tell me what's wrong–"

"You carouse with that _wizard_ ; canoodle that – that _elf_ the moment my back is turned and you _dare to ask me what's wrong?!_ "

Had she… been coming to apologise? I realised I owed her an explanation too.

"I'm sorry I scared you."

"Scared me? What are you talking about? You–"

"At the townhouse," I interrupted calmly.

She turned white, and looked away.

"Nalia, please–"

"Just go," she pleaded, suddenly crumbling, "leave!"

Had it been Imoen, even Aerie, I wouldn't have hesitated to go over and hug her; I saw past her birth, and saw only a young woman who recently lost her father, and after having her world rocked so, saw a monster in the very one who had reclaimed her keep. I _was_ a fool.

Just as I made the decision, the door opened behind her.

"I heard a ruckus; is all all right, fair lady?" Delryn. His eyes met mine, and they were harsh; he had seen her tears, and evidently blamed me. "If this knave is causing you grief…" The threat was unmistakeable; an obvious observation, but there was contempt in his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to show me his place, as he might an errant dog.

"Anomen, no–" she pleaded, for his sake, not mine; she had not forgotten the darkness within me any more than I had.

I turned to leave.

"Stand, coward! One more step, and I'll thrash you like a dog!"

"Anomen!" She gasped.

"Stand back, my lady," his smooth, accented tone was beginning to grate. "I shall teach this scoundrel to mistreat a lady."

This was too much; for Nalia's sake, I would not resort to schoolyard brawling. We were not stableboys playing at 'best squire'–

"I said halt!" Delryn's voice thundered down the stone corridor, "the gods curse me if I do not teach you to respect your betters; where are your manners?"

Nalia seized his arm, terrified of what I might do to him; I could see the fear painted clearly. In diamond panes, I saw my calm reflection. The chill in my eyes justified Nalia's dread, but I had no intention of hurting the man. My ire was rising, however.

"Release me, fair lady; it has become an issue of honour. He will apologise to you, and then to me; I will not be insulted by such as he, nor see you insulted."

"Anomen, please, let it go…" Frantic, she clutched him; he played to it, straightening. The knight in armour defending the poor damsel. This was straight out of a storybook.

"Apologise?" The low word left my mouth and in its wake deathly quiet followed; I saw her fresh forming tears, and conceded, "Very well, if I have offended either of your honour, I apologise. I bid you both goodnight."

Delryn had been robbed of his play; and it stirred his anger, "That is not enough!"

"Anomen! He apologised!"

"No! He mocks me – look at him! Look at how he holds himself, his head high; sneering down at a knight of the order–"

"You're no knight," I spoke in the same acidic tone Jaheira wielded to such great effect, "Not yet."

Cheeks flaming, he tore free of Nalia's hold and marched up to me, "I'll–"

"Do no such thing!" The force of my words left him agape, "This is the home of Nalia De'Arnise; she has asked you to stop, and I will not engage in this childishness any further! I will not brawl like a common thug, nor duel you just to prove my bravery in battle. If this is how you choose to win her favour, then I pray she will come to her senses and see you for what you are: an overeager blood-thirster, who cares more for his own 'honour' than the wishes of a lady."

Such a speech would have made Gorion proud. I was not finished, "If you wish to shed blood, return to Athkatla and hunt down the night hunters that are preying on the innocents."

"I – I will not leave her in the care of you and your–"

I overrode him, "You have made your intentions perfectly clear, _Sir_ Delryn; you court the lady in her hour of grief. Her father is not yet cold in her mind, and you – you seek to make her your own."

"She needs a strong man to guide her–"

" _She needs no one!_ " I thundered, "Not you, not me, not Edwin!"

"That Thayan also pays court to her–"

"You fool! No one is courting her; we respect her enough to stand by her, not woo her into bed!"

He very nearly swung at me.

"Enough!" Nalia screamed, "Stop it both of you!"

Glaring daggers at me, Delryn turned on his heel, marched over to her, and apologised, "Forgive me my lady; my temper got the better–" His bow, clearly presented his arm to her; before she whirled away, sickened by us both, I called out to her.

"I will not shed blood for this."

She froze mid-stride, tensing, then stormed away.

Delryn turned and shot me a look of pure, unadulterated hate. That my words had given her pause and his had not only fuelled it.

Back in my room, it only got worse.


	43. A Better Way, part 6

"Well, you handled that well."

I looked painfully at her; did we really have to do this now?

"I expect the whole keep heard you," she continued in acidic tones, ignoring me.

I sighed. Life with the sirines was so much simpler…

"Nothing to say for yourself? You certainly had plenty to say earlier."

"I'm tired – please…"

"So now you want to rest?" The mildness made me wince; I braced myself. I was not wrong to. "You just had to go after her, didn't you? You couldn't have left that boy to chase her, and let her see for herself what sort of man he is. Did you think she was serious about him? He is nowhere near the charmer of women he believes himself to be; the girl has a level head on her shoulders, if you would trust her to use it, which is more than I can say for you!"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Why are you making enemies out of members of the order?! Did you want him to challenge you to a duel–"

"I refused–"

"And pray tell, child, what do you think _that_ will achieve? Your shaming him will only fuel his determination."

"I thought you'd be proud."

"Proud? Why in the – why would I be proud of such a fool, stubborn-headed–"

"I could have torn him to pieces!"

"Oh yes, I can see that. Are you pleased with yourself for proving your vast intellect over his? Or did you mean with your bare hands?"

"Jaheira!"

"You demonstrated his intellectual inequities at the table; wasn't that enough for you?"

"He burst in on me!"

"And you are surprised? You foolish child! You should have expected it!"

"…I did."

She fixed me a long, hard look.

"I'm sorry–"

"It will take more than that to fix this; soothing his wounded pride – why can't you just let things be?! Must you always provoke trouble, child?"

Was she talking to me or to Imoen here? Either way, my temper flared; I was tired, tetchy and I'd had just about enough of today. I regretted it almost as soon as it left my mouth, but not that I stood up to her.

"You're not my mother, woman!"

She should have slapped me for that one; her retort was worse than if she had. Instead she took it in stride without missing a beat.

"If you were mine, I'd have you over a barrel. Your foolishness is enough to warrant that and worse. Be grateful I'm _not_ your mother; Gorion knows, it wasn't easy raising you, and it wasn't your fault you never had a mother, but I expected better of you. Even were I not your guardian, I'd be disappointed by this display."

"I only went there to talk to her!" Stung by the injustice, and reduced to younger years, the unrelenting rebuke hurt more than it should.

"You should have waited!"

Anything I said would only make me sound foolish; any retort I gave would only be turned back on me. My pride was not ready to take another beating; I simply gave in. Throwing my 'honour' to the wind, the need to be 'right' sullied and torn, I simply walked towards my bed.

"And what do you think you're doing?"

I didn't reply; I just stripped off my clothes, kicked away my boots and climbed in.

"We haven't finished this–"

"You win."

Instantly she softened, sighed, and her hand combed through my hair while I lay facedown in the pillow; I didn't care any more, not about this. She sat on my bedside for hours; even after she'd soothed me to sleep, she stayed there; when I awoke, sometime later in the night, she still watched. The 'talk' that followed involved apologises from both of us, an admission that I was not Imoen – though at times, it was quite apparent we were siblings; I chose not to make note of the physical differences… and somehow, I ended up with my head in her lap, while she sat against the headboard. She seemed to like stroking my hair, and I snuggled against her, finally allowing myself to rest.

She was gone when I woke the next morning, but her lips brushing my brow stirred me; even if they had not, the warmth on the pillow told me she stayed far beyond dawn.

I sighed, remembering the night before. She was probably right; why couldn't things be this simple with Nalia? Damn nobles.


	44. A Better Way, part 7

All this did impress one thing on me: the pointlessness of the bickering when there were far more pressing matters at stake: Imoen.

I approached Minsc a short while later, and before the morning was over, we had reached an accord, of sorts. I was right; it was fear that he feared. Never confronted with it before, it baffled him; so I suggested that there were some things in life steel could overcome; that only a stout heart could. I explained about the evil within, and very sweetly, he proclaimed that I was a "good friend", and so was "little Imoen", and if Bhaal wasn't dead, he'd get the biggest – well, put less crudely, "righteousness' boot" to his posterior. Not quite the aim I had in mind, but it would have to do. The idea of a stout heart and overcoming what was inside greatly appealed to the giant warrior, though he confessed he didn't quite understand, but promised "Boo" would explain it to him later. At least his spirits had lifted…

I had already decided I was leaving before noon, and made my way to Nalia's chambers. I tapped on the door, and without admitting me, a maid went to fetch her mistress. In the stone antechamber outside, I waited.

"What do you want?" Nalia was as defensive as before; I hesitated, then told her the truth.

"I'm leaving."

The door flung open; I glimpsed inside. She resided in a tower, her father's old rooms, and the stairwell up was long, winding, and the antechamber flooded with light. Light shone in from one side of the room, and a thigh red rug, with her family's coat of arms covered the floor; more coats of arms decorated the walls at intervals, along with pictures; a landscape of a ship, and beyond, her bedchamber.

The wardrobe was open, clothes half on the floor, half flung across the dressing screen; the four poster bed's heavy red velvet curtains were loose, the bed sheets in disarray. Here and there, especially on the bedside table, and a round table by the window in the main room, books lay open, along with piles of scrolls. Nalia herself was not quite as rumpled, though her hair was a mess; she drew mid-blue dressing gown tightly around her, and stared at me.

"Why?" Her brown eyes were wide, confused and hurt.

"Imoen," I said gently.

"But – how – how will you get to Spellhold? You – you can't go! I promised to help – I – I forbid it!"

Patiently, I waited. I felt more sorry for her than I did the night before; I knew what I was about to tell her would hurt her infinitely more, but she deserved to know. "Do you trust me?"

The question caught her off balance; it wasn't what I'd been planning to say, but somehow it slipped out. Slowly, she nodded.

"Send away your maids; we need to talk."

Cautiously, she did, and led me inside to her sitting room. Self-consciously, she cleared the couch, pushing aside the tomes. Another time I would have smiled. Carefully she sat; I wasn't going to join her, then did. After a moment of letting her look everywhere but at me; another of her studying the mantel and the hunting scene above it, between fleeting glimpses at me, and finally, her watching me, I began.

"Imoen… is very dear to me."

She nodded; I was stating the obvious, but it seemed like the place to start.

"My… sister. I would do anything for her." I looked her in the eye without blinking, "No matter the cost to myself."

Another nod; I drew in a deep breath.

"Your family's keep… it wasn't attacked by accident."

She stared at me.

"There has been… a presence watching us for some time; I – I finally worked out what it was."

Her hands began to tremble; she kept them folded in her lap, just as Aerie had done the day before.

"It is old… cunning, and… it has manoeuvred us, like pieces on a chess board. It is… forgive me, Nalia, but it is our fault your father is dead."

Her eyes bulged, her knuckles turned white.

I never looked away. "Had… had we not been taken, captured; no, had we not escaped our capture, or, perhaps even then… we were watched, ever since we were brought to Athkatla. By more than one force, I suspect, but this one – there was a contact, one Jaheira–"

"The official…?" She barely breathed; her voice was a squeak.

I nodded, "He… he is that, and more; I suspect him in the employ of another. The one that sent the trolls."

Now she trembled violently.

"I know where he is. He does not know I know, and I will make him pay for his crimes. Crimes against you, against us, against many, many others." I looked through her, past her, and without knowing it, my eyes began to blaze, "He will not expect this."

She whispered my name; her fear brought me back.

I smiled sadly at her. "I… owe you an explanation. I asked you to trust me; I ask you to trust me again." Then I added, "Please."

I did not deserve it, but she nodded. She was not only holding up better than I would have thought, she understood the games of politics faster than I had. She became at once focused, determined, and her jaw set. Perhaps now was not the best time to reveal what I was; perhaps it was the only time. I told her, plainly, simply.

"What do you know of the dead god Bhaal?"

Her terror was greater than if I had been a dragon; she shied back, and I did not blame her. "For Imoen," I said simply, and slowly, she began to calm, began to trust. Fear was replaced by fury; grief and vengeance. Fierce tears stung her eyes when I spoke of the truth about our captivity; how I was held helpless in a jar, while horrors were visited upon my sister; how I was unable to aid her a second time. How it was all we could do to cling to each other; how every night, I had searched and searched for her, and bit by bit, surrendered my essence to her, fully knowing the cost; how that night, I felt her dying, and only her will had stopped me from becoming dust, as Sarevok had.

A still had settled by the time I'd finished, and tightly she gripped my arm, looked me straight in the eye and vowed anew she would do all she could to help me get back Imoen. When I asked if she could trust a 'son of Murder', the look she gave me brought crimson to my cheeks. Then she hugged me fiercely, kissed my hair and promised we would find her. She understood why Aerie had kissed me, and now her hand touched my cheek; she gazed deeply into my eyes, and an understanding passed between us. Before I could say more, Delryn entered the room; the door was left open…


	45. A Better Way, part 8

Predictably, he was furious, ashamed and his temper got the best of him. Nalia threw him out of her chambers; I withheld the smug smile Edwin would almost certainly have given him, but simply clapped his shoulder after I rose and walked past him. "Take care of her," I said, leaving him even more baffled than before.

Nalia called my name as I descended the stairs, "Wait!"

I looked up at her, ignoring the fuming would-be knight.

"Who is responsible for my father's downfall? Tell me! If you fall, I will never know…"

"Firkraag."

At this point, Delryn exploded; the curses he used were those no priest or one who took holy orders should know, let alone use. Nalia's wide eyes and white face should have been enough to warn me I was about to get another verbal beating, but Delryn's tirade had caught me unawares.

"Firkraag?!" Nalia cried, "He – he's a myth!"

Delryn's swearing had brought the curious maids out of hiding (and no doubt, they heard everything I told Nalia,) and scattered them.

Nothing would dissuade me.

"You gods' damned fool!" Delryn railed; well, he had the first part right… "you leave to face the Red Wyrm alone?!"

I did not dignify him with an answer, though the words that sprang to mind were 'that was the plan, yes'; sadly, acknowledging him would only have given him a springboard from which to vent more.

"I forbid it!" He cried, much to my incredulousness, and Nalia's startlement; he turned to her, "If this foul beast truly was responsible for your father's demise, then I swear I shall bring it to justice!"

I wanted to point out that I had already pledged that, but nothing would deter him from his moment.

"I will aid you," he announced without grandeur, "and we shall hunt down and slay the fiend, or die trying!"

This – this was _not_ what I'd planned.

Nalia smiled sadly, "No, my brave knight, no."

"But he can? Alone? No, fair lady, I insist; you must let me accompany him."

Did I have no say in this? I should have slipped out while I had the chance; I was not bringing some half trained squire-boy to die against a dragon.


	46. A Better Way, part 9

"So where is he?" Delryn whispered, as we lay on our stomachs overlooking a gully; the craggy cliffs around us and ahead of us seemed like rifts in the earth, torn apart by some great force centuries before.

I tried not to sigh. How had this happened? I had made him swear to secrecy, and on his pledge of honour, he had agreed; that was the only way I could stop him from rousing the rest of the keep and not being able to implement my plan at all. I had lost count of the days; four, maybe five? I wondered how long it would be before he tried to murder me, return tearful to Nalia and speak of how I heroically fell, avenging her father's honour. How he alone escaped, wounded superficially, but was unable to save me.

"What's the plan?" He pressed, as if sensing my thoughts. Gods' damned paladins.

"We rest," I replied simply, "when night falls; we find a cave, and prepare for tomorrow. We'll search for the entrance to his lair."

It was a typically storybook answer, but one he seemed to accept; Nalia did not mention my dreamwalking to him, and his ignorance of it might be what saved his life; I had no doubt he would try to stop me if he knew my real plan. Probably spouting the words 'dishonour', and the like. It wasn't about 'honour'; only survival, Imoen's survival.

At least Nalia would keep the others occupied for a time. My absence would have been noted, and Jaheira would skin me alive whether I returned successful or not; I should not have left without telling her. I hadn't even left her a letter. She would have tried to stop me, or insisted on coming, probably trying to talk me out of it the entire way. Perhaps I did her a disservice, but I did not trust her to let me do what was necessary; she would say that the last time I had almost killed myself.

Delryn was a most irritating travelling companion; his talk of virtue, honour and other priestly ideals mixed with a romantic image of what a knight was was everything I loathed. He was nothing like Laurel, and if all paladins were like him, I was not surprised they were despised by so many.

At best, he was a meddling busybody who lorded it over all those around him of 'lesser class'; at worse, he was a blinded, bigoted zealot, who strove to force everyone in the world to see with his eyes, and took a sword to anyone who refused. The man was a deranged, psychotic maniac; it made me shudder to think there was an entire order of young men as dangerously deluded as him.

I causally slipped in Laurel's name at one point in his lengthy monologues; such recitals lasted for hours, and for a few moments, he was quiet. When he spoke, he spoke of her with both admiration and bitterness; she had been sent ahead of him to investigate the strange happenings in Nashkel, along with Ajantis Ilvastarr and another paladin named Bjornin. Since her return, she had changed, and would not speak of it to anyone. Strangely, hope stirred within me. Delryn added that it was as if she had lost someone, or a piece of herself, and not even Lord Firecam could make her confide in her. From how he spoke of "Lord Firecam", I highly doubted he would force anyone to confide in him, but that was a point overlooked by the young Delryn. Remaining tight-lipped had not changed Laurel's smile, and her admirers were many; knights, squires, nobles and outsiders. She would not commit to any, instead dutifully devoted to her god, just as before.

I really began to wonder if she was a priestess in a paladin's guise. From the wistful sigh, and his other comments, I wondered if this Firecam was training her as his successor. Delryn clearly disliked Ajantis, who he referred to scathingly; his bite had nothing on Edwin's, and Jaheira's acid made his pale. The result was a spiteful sounding boy who had been rejected, and rather than impress his humility upon his superiors, took it as a slight. He had trouble accepting his 'guard duty' postings, and wished to be off slaying vampires and other creatures of the night. By contrast, Laurel accepted all duties given her, as did many of the senior paladins, and led by example without complaint. Of all those in the order, Ajantis seemed closest to Laurel, and though a few years younger than Delryn, outranked him. This had done nothing for the soon-to-be knight's temper, and 'Squire Delryn' had been assigned to serve 'Sir Ilvastarr' personally.

Such talk resulted in a foul tempered Delryn finally falling quiet, and brooding over events he had no control over. The ride was easier after that, but I could not be sure when the next outburst would come from, and I did not care to have him at my back.

By the time night fell, we had found shelter under a crag, and had gathered enough brushwood to light a small fire. It was especially cold, but I did not feel it; my mind was elsewhere, leaving Delryn to shiver under his blanket, too proud to huddle up against me or the horses. Perhaps the chill would cool his temper?


	47. A Better Way, part 10

I did not dream of Imoen that night. Instead, my thoughts turned to those at Nalia's keep; Jaheira paced, as she had in the townhouse, her agitation and worry enough to drive everyone else away; Nalia fretted in her father's old chambers, alternating between sitting at her table, pacing and trying in vain to read. Edwin remained lost in his own world, the pile of books he'd yet to read shrinking considerably with each passing day. Minsc grew restless, and left the grounds to scout the forests for "evil", be it bandits, monsters or offending vines that might try to strangle him. Korgan spent his time drinking and taking advantage of the attention of a young maid; and Aerie sat in the inner courtyard's pool, praying by the fountain.

Amidst all this, the captain of the guard organised patrols, and found himself swamped by a stream of refugees. Those who had fled the city had scattered in all directions, so it was only a matter of time before some found their way to the De'Arnise lands. As he prepared to send some of their way, Nalia had emerged, and her sermons about 'charity' were met with the grim reality of war. To her credit, she allowed them in, swearing to protect them if they would uphold her laws.

Until that point, the keep had been relatively quiet; most of the servants that had not been killed by the trolls had fled; the few that stayed found themselves surrounded by the commonfolk. Dockworkers, peddlers, fishwives; children, sailors, and whores. The keep became a hub of activity, and with the influx, theft became an issue. The captain came down hard on it, but Nalia would not see children hung, and instead ordered that everything was rationed fairly. She took to the challenge, despite her own worries, and Jaheira supported her, while Aerie looked after the children. Soon classes were set up, while the women and menfolk were set to work. There were a few incidents, but order was gradually restored.

The days went by, and from an empty shell, life returned to the keep. Word began to spread that it was a place of safety, and others were drawn, the prospect of a fresh start. Minsc re-emerged and found himself leading forays into the woods, and his hunting parties placed meat on the table daily. Poachers and trappers were pardoned and placed in Nalia's employ, and those fleeing from the surrounding countryside brought livestock. Some were farmers, and soon construction of new dwellings began. The variety of trades was impressive, and Nalia promised everyone would be put to work in their own craft; she also pledged that no one would remain in a tent longer than necessary, and expanding the settlement took priority.

According to Delryn, twelve days has passed since we left, and my concern for Imoen grew.


	48. A Better Way, part 11

My dreams focused on my companions, though I did not consciously will them to. Perhaps I needed to set my mind at rest, perhaps I felt guilty for abandoning them. Korgan dropped a coin into the awaiting hands of the giggling maid; her large dark eyes gazed up at him. From his throne of kegs, he watched her, took a draught from his flagon, and she placed her chin on his knee. The grizzled dwarf smiled, "Off with ye." She clutched the coin close, slipping it down her dress, making sure he saw where it went. He patted her rump, and off she scurried, just as Aerie walked in. Sighing contentedly, he sank back.

The priestess' eyes were horrified, appalled and wide, she gasped in outrage, "You pig!"

He took another swig, "What's wrong with a lass earning some extra coin, ye prissy elf?" After belching, he shrugged, "She enjoys it, as would ye. Yer too uptight."

"How dare you! I – I!" Fists balling, her eyes betrayed her; the dwarf shrugged again.

"I know my way around a woman, lass, even an elf as stuck up as ye." Yawning, he smacked his lips together, "If yer curious–"

"I'm no whore!"

"I wasn't offerin' ta pay ye, lass." Settling back, his eyes closed, "Get what ye came for an' leave me be."

Striding across the room and snatching a wine jar from the rack on the wall, she fought with the urge to pitch it at him. Reaching down, he pinched her rump; gasping, she wheeled around, cheeks flaming.

"Yer no different to any other lass," he chuckled, "accept ye liked it, an' ye'll be better for it."

She slapped him; before she could shatter the wine jar over his head, he caught her raised wrist, and pulled her down for a kiss. Ignoring her struggles, he let her flail for a moment then released her. She clamped her hands to her mouth, guilt and horror playing across her eyes. Korgan settled into the kegs, as she fled from the room.

"Ye'll be back," he muttered.

I woke with a start.


	49. A Better Way, part 12

Delryn was up already; the fire had burnt low, and breakfast was dried rations. I doubted even Minsc could find anything more than lizard for meat; no birds flew above us, and few rodents scurried. The horses were grumpy, and I felt out of it. Korgan and… Aerie? I wanted to laugh; it was absurd. Had I really dreamt that? Shaking my head, I made ready; we would scout the rest of the canyon today. We had explored the southern half and found little; we look head north. Though I knew the location, I did not know the way in. It vexed me, but there was little I could do; I was not prepared to alert our foe to my dreaming, and Delryn certainly did not need to know of it.

Two hours in, the trouble started.


	50. Fools Charge In, part 1

Fools Charge In

"Delryn, no!"

The fool did not listen. Roaring a battle-cry, he spurred his mount forward, sword raised. The ogre, standing the same height as the mounted squire, raised its spiked club and bellowed a cry of its own. It was like watching a scene straight out of a picture book; gods, why was he so stupid?

I stepped into the waking dream, and stepped out again; something about this felt _wrong_. I could not say what it was, but it was there–

"Die foul beast!" Delryn brought his sword down, catching the creature's arm; it sheered through to the bone, and it dropped its club screaming. There was something all too human in its cry.

"Wait!" I thundered.

Delryn was far too taken to himself to listen to _me_ ; he rounded his horse and charged, knocking the beast onto its front. There, his sword lunged, lancing into the ogre's back. Then to his horror, and mine, mist seemed to lift and in the ogre's place lay a man. A man bearing the surcoat of the Radiant Hart.

Sliding from the horse, Delryn fell to his knees beside the knight, "What have I done…?"

Idiot.


	51. Fools Charge In, part 2

I was not as adept as Jaheira, Aerie or Nalia, and Delryn knew a little more than me. The breastplate had stopped the tip from piercing too deep, but the blow to the arm had not been glancing; the man was alive, but barely. It took both of us to get him out of his armour, and bandage him up. Pouring down the herbal concoction I had flinched from Jaheira's satchel helped him a little, but he was still dangerously near death. Moving him was unwise, but leaving him here meant his death. We had nothing to make a stretcher from, and the gods weren't heeding Delryn's prayers to restore the knight. I couldn't begin to wonder why that was. Fool.

I left Delryn with the knight; his confidence shattered, as he whined over and over how he had not know, how could this have happened? Had I not gone in search of help, I would have told him. That there was a house nearby did not fill me with confidence; it seemed far too convenient. Still, what choice did we have? I could very easily have left Delryn to rot, but Gorion raised me better than that. I would never have been able to face the others, or myself, if I had let an 'innocent' man die when I could have done something. How innocent any paladin was was a question I wasn't prepared to ask at this point.

Garren was the man who owned the house; a dejected noble, who tried to put on a brave face. He helped us move the knight, who I learned between Delryn's incoherent babbling was none other than his overlord, Sir Ajantis Ilvastarr. Once, I might have been surprised. Now I was just suspicious. Delryn mentioned something about "Trademeet", a town east of Athkatla, and south and east of the De'Arnise lands. Between what sounded like the beginnings of terrified sobs, he spoke of a "mission", and the town "council"; something about two feuding families, and seeking a resolution. I did not care. What Ilvastarr was doing here was of more interest.

After placing him in a bed, Garren promised he would go to fetch help. He knew a priest who might be able to heal him. He promised he would not be long, and his daughter, Iltha, would take care of our needs. I almost asked what sort of father would leave his daughter alone with two strangers, but decided the road was no safer. Garren clapped Delryn's shoulder, and whatever encouragement he offered the man seemed to steel him somewhat; Delryn retreated to a corner, and on his kneels, kept vigil. Clasping his hands in front of him, he began to pray.

I left him to it; perhaps the gods would heed this display of piety; whether his desperation was selfish, or genuine meant little at this point. I did not expect the gods to answer, and if they did, I expected that answer would be the old adage, 'the gods help those who help themselves'. They would not bail us out of this because of Delryn's stupidity, no matter how deep his regret.

Outside, Garren told me softly he did not know if Ilvastarr would survive, but assured me he would do all he could to see it so. I would have questioned him further, but there was no time. I gave him our horses, and after a moment, offered him Delryn's sword, but he shook his head. He had steel of his own, though he was long since past carrying it. As he rode off, I wondered what sort of mess I had got myself into.

Iltha watched me from the doorway. Like her father, she had dark hair, Amnish features, but a northern complexion. After a few moments, I turned and followed her inside. She checked in on Ilvastarr; I did not ask how he was. It was obvious he hovered between life and death, and so, I went to the main room.

I felt her shoulder on my hand; I had not heard her join me, so lost in thought as I drank in the fire's warmth. Just as silently, she stood beside me, her hand finding mine. I squeezed back, though I wondered where this sudden affection had come from. I could not let go of the feeling something was terribly, terribly wrong.

After a while, she drew up a chair from the dining table, sat, inviting me to do the same.

"You're a long way from civilisation," she observed, "it's been a while since we've had visitors."

It would be unwise to mention my reason for being here.

"If you're hungry…? Can I get you a drink?"

I shook my head; I didn't feel like talking, but her earnestness left me wondering how lonely she must be. "You've siblings?"

Her turn to shake her head, "Just my father."

I didn't ask about her mother.

"Our family…" She lifted her head slightly, a glimmer of pride, "used to have more than this. Our estates fell after our castle caught fire."

I waited.

"We lost much, but we make do. My father prefers it out here, away from the politics and games of the nobles. There is enough game to feed us both, and I grow a few crops. The rest we trade pelts for."

I looked into the flames.

"I… don't have many friends." She hesitated, then leaned in, "Won't you tell me why you're here?"

"I'm searching for someone."

"A friend?"

"My sister."

"Oh." Another pause, "I can't say I've seen anyone around these parts lately, except Sir Ilvastarr; what does she look like?"

"You won't have seen her."

It piqued her curiosity, "Well, if you're sure, but it can't hurt to tell me, can it?"

She was desperate for conversation. Her eyes were dark, uncertain and hopeful; I sighed inside. "I'm tired," I said simply, shaming her.

"Oh! I – forgive me, of course you are. Please, let me lead you to your room…"

I frowned at that.

"My father hosts guests; we may be poor from what we were, but there is still room." When I did not answer, she firmed, "I insist. Sir Ilvastarr sleeps in my father's bed, and my father will not be back for a day or three. We have a guest room, and I will not have you sleeping on the floor like a common servant."

"And Delryn?"

"Squire Delryn stays with his master; Ilvastarr spoke of him during his visit. He delivered a letter to my father. We might be remote, but we are still connected." Again, the pride returned.

I could either sleep, or sit here and listen to her all night. Sleep seemed the better choice. Too many days sleeping on the trail, with saddlebags as a pillow, stinking of horse. As much as it ashamed me to admit it, I had grown used to not resting in a bedroll.

"Have you a bathhouse?"


	52. Fools Charge In, part 3

"I'm sorry," Iltha admitted, watching as I set the bucket down. Six trips, and enough well water drawn to submerge myself in completely; she insisted on heating it for me. Her ladle scooped more into the black-iron kettle, and I sighed. I would have been content with a strip wash; a rag and some soap. The 'bathhouse', she explained, was in need of repair; the wood was rotten, and needed replacing. She had had to make do with a water-butt lined with a sheet while her father poured the bucket over her.

I should have realised her agenda, but I was too distracted. Ever aware we were nearing Firkraag, I was wondering how to confront him, and how I would bend him to my will. I had not searched myself since I had given to Imoen; I believed the wellspring empty. I was afraid to look, afraid of what it meant to simply be mortal. Between such thoughts, I was dimly aware of the approaching night; how it was already dark outside. Here, on the flagstones before the fireplace, I wondered how many more nights I would see.

Iltha went to fetch the barrel; I realised too late she had lugged the heavy thing by herself, and shame graced me. I made to take it from her, and she smiled, shaking her head. Instead she prepared the sheet, and poured the kettle's contents. The cloud of steam that arose seemed almost mystical; it had been days since I had been able to wash myself. Tipping a bucket of well water in, she tested it with her finger, smiled and nodded. Modestly, she turned around, and shedding my clothes, I dreamily took the soap, wet the cloth and scrubbed myself down. Then I climbed in.

She seemed surprised I would take the time to wash first; I had not felt the chill, and as I sank into the liquid warmth, she trapped the steam with the sheet. Leaning forwards, I soaked my hair, and lost myself. Tentatively at first, she rubbed soap onto my shoulder, wet it, and wiped it dry. I should have been more aware of it, but I wasn't. After she had soaped my back, oiled and rinsed my hair, she added another load from the kettle and left me. I drifted between thoughts, between dreams, and the ride, its ache and saddle-soreness became a distant memory.

As I dozed, she washed my clothes; by the time she hung them to dry, the water had cooled. I came to with a jolt, vivid images of floating in darkness, of being stuck in a jar seizing me. My eyes snapped open, and as I took in everything, including the faintly scented herbal soap, I relaxed. From the corner of her eye, she watched me, and calmly, after folding my cloak over the makeshift line, she held out a towel for me. It was half the size of a bed-sheet, its weave coarse, but soft compared to the rags I used. She hid her smile as I stepped out dripping onto the flagstones, and found myself wrapped and rubbed dry. I had to wonder if she did this for all her 'guests'. Holding out a dressing robe, her father's, I presumed, I had little choice but to accept it or prance naked through her home.

Stepping back, she half curtsied, "I'll show you to your room now."

I immediately knew it was her room, and not 'mine'; the room was at the very end of the house, and set back from the other two bedchambers. A single bed, neat, filled one corner, a shelf another, and a narrow chest sat tucked out the way. Her fingers held mine, catching them just before we left the main room. As all my socks (as well as all my other clothes) now decorated the chamber, I had opted to go barefoot across the fur rugs and woven carpets. She carried no light, so I supposed I could forgive her for leading me by the hand…

I turned to face her; she had planted herself between me and the door. "This is your room."

"I want you to have it."

"Why?"

"You were right; Delryn should have his own room."

I didn't believe her.

Curling a lock of hair around her fingers, she pressed her lips together, her eyes lowered; then she lifted them, "You interest me, he doesn't." When I did not reply, she confessed, "You're not a paladin." After another lack of response, she looked down, "Anomen wounds a brother knight, won't listen and charges into battle…" A quick glance up, "I heard what happened. What you didn't tell my father. Ilvastarr told us… how hot-headed his squire is. You didn't have to tell us; you do not wear the signs of battle. I doubt you are a coward; you would not have been so calm earlier." She paused, "He owes you a debt… they both do."

"And we your father."

She shook her head, "You are not a paladin."

"What makes you say that?" Why were we having this conversation in her bedroom behind a closed door?

"My father's friends with Keldorn Firecam. I've seen enough knights to know." Trailing off, she took a breath, "I've something to show you."

Before I could stop her, she twisted and unlaced the side of her dress; it fell, doubled over at her hip. I stared.

"My father," she began sadly, "he's a good man, a generous and kind man, but he drinks. He drinks because of my mother… and sometimes he beats me." She turned around, stepping close and taking my hands; her bunched dress barely covering her. "Once your business here is done… take me with you?"

Her eyes were pleading, desperate; I froze. There were so many objections; something was still wrong in the back of my mind. Why me and not a paladin? Because of her father? But there was something else, something… deeper. This was too easy, too… convenient.

Her soft lips brushed the side of mine, warm, longing, hesitant. "I've little coin," whispering, as if hardly daring to breath, her hands touched my shoulders.

She still blocked the door.


	53. Fools Charge In, part 4

"You did well my pet, you played your part to perfection." The voice was deep, booming, amused. A wave of dizziness overcame me as I tried to lift my head. It was chilly here; the floor was stone. It echoed…

Iltha's voice, sweet, demure, "I seek only to please you, Master."

"Manlings are so gullible."

My head felt like it weighed a ton; I saw crimson scales, overlapping. Claws. A… foot. Raising my eyes, I saw the rest of it. Firkraag. He was huge. He towered over me, and here I lay, at his feet. I couldn't move my limbs. My eyes focused, and oddly, I felt no fear. I felt… strange. Drugged.

"Why?" My own voice sounded hollow to my ears, insistent. From the corner of my eye, I saw her shrug.

"Because here stands a great lord, a lord of the skies, of fire. _He_ doesn't neglect me or confine me like my father does."

"Last night–"

"Oh, you do interest me," she stepped into my field of vision; she was in white, dressed as a maiden, her smile radiant, adoring. "I've asked my master if we can keep you." She looked up at him.

"You drugged me," I croaked, still unable to move. Quickly, my mind worked, "The official," I addressed the dragon, "he was yours. You were behind the trolls."

"Very good!" The beast clapped his forepaws together in delight, "You _are_ a clever little thing. Others have taken years trying to work out who was behind their misery. I'm afraid I had to simplify things."

"The knight–?"

"A distraction."

"I am here, as you wished."

"Oh, well done. Yes, I did wish to see you. And now I have." The dragon yawned, "Alas the time for games is at an end. As entertaining as this has been, I tire of it. Go."

"Why?" I frowned, my muscles beginning to loosen.

"Because I wish to see how things play out; I wanted to see what sort of god-child you were." Firkraag paused, considering, "You might outlive most of your siblings, but you will fall, I think."

"My captor? What role does he play?"

"So full of questions! You did not tell me he was this inquisitive, little flower."

"I didn't know."

"Tsk, tsk," he chided, "You'll have to do better."

"My captor?" I prompted patiently.

"Ah yes, him. Rather a bore, to tell you the truth. Oh, I'm sure he thinks highly of himself, as most manlings do, but he is simply another mage bent on revenge."

"But why?"

"Is that the only question you can ask?" He sighed, "Very well; I shall indulge you. He is an exile of the elves. Oh, you did not know this?" Another yawn, "Like you and your kin, he seeks to become a god, stealing what is not his." A sigh followed, "The mortal realm is so much more _interesting_ ; why anyone would seek to become a god is beyond me."

"Power," I said simply.

"Ah yes, I forget how little you manlings possess. Always seeking more. It is quite amusing really, but now our conversation really must end. See how my pet grows impatient? She is a jealous little thing. That is the trouble with you mortals: no patience. I suppose it comes from such short lifespans. Perhaps I will see you again, but I doubt it. Run along now; my pet will see you out." He cracked wide a draconic grin, "You may even sample her again, but I do want her back. So hard to scrub one's own back."

As far as I could, I inclined my head.


	54. Fools Charge In, part 5

"Why didn't you tell him?" Anger, confusion, shame. As soon as we were outside the vast cavern, she turned on me. We had not even completed the stone stairwell's descent; the cave the chamber was carved from was shrouded in darkness, but for the natural rays of light shining in from above. There was a cool, moist feel, and I got the impression we had just left the throne room. The heart of Firkraag's lair had not been what I was expecting; I had not seen a hoard in one corner, or fawning lackeys. Above us, greenery grew; plants, trees. It had been raining.

"Why did you drug me?" My calm buffeted her ire, but did not extinguish it.

"So you would come!"

I did not ask how; I assumed it was something she added to the clothing or water, perhaps the herbs in the soap. I also expected her to have used the antidote on herself.

"Had you asked, I would have." While she frowned at me, trying to decide whether or not I spoke true, I decided it was time she learned the truth. "Your master killed a young woman's father, a little older than you."

There was a sullen pause, "What do I care?"

"Her name is Nalia. I suspect her father knew yours–"

Folding her arms with a frown, I knew I had struck the mark.

"I glimpsed the coat of arms. Cousins, perhaps?"

She turned her back on me.

"He did it to lure me here. That official? He offered us information for coin. Coin gained by ridding the De'Arnise ancestral keep of trolls. I wondered what manner of being would be strong enough to cause trolls to fear. Ask him: he's right up those stairs. Your master could have extended an invitation, but he likes to play games, as he has with your father."

"Stop it!" She whirled around, "What do you want?!"

"Justice." Realising I sounded like a paladin, I amended, "I want my sister back. That mage took her from me, tortured her. Tortured me. We escaped. The cowls fought him; he let himself be captured; they took him to Spellhold, along with my sister. She almost died."

No reaction; I wasn't expecting much.

"While I was chasing trolls, she was being tortured. The cowls that guarded him are dead. Whatever he started, he has almost finished. The guild war in Athkatla – you've heard of it? The vampires fight the thieves; they are led by his sister, and now the city is locked down. I have no way to Spellhold, no way to save her."

"Irenicus," she said abruptly.

"'Shattered One'?" I translated the bastardised elvish frowning slightly.

"Him, the Exile. Firkraag delights in knowing what others do not."

"Thank you." Finally, a name… 'Shattered One'. It wasn't at all appropriate. 'Living Ice', perhaps, or 'Dead Inside' would be a better fit. "Your master," it was not really a question, no matter how I phrased it, "he plays 'chess', but we are the pawns." Not so much a question after all.

"What's your point?" The sullenness returned.

"How did that fire start, the one that consumed your family home?"

She stared at me, "An accident, why?"

I didn't elaborate. "The paladins of the Radiant Hart are opposed to such as he, are they not? That's why you dislike them, amongst other reasons."

"So? Make your point."

"Interesting how your father is friends with Firecam. Was there ever an expedition to rid these lands of the wyrm?"

"Many times…" Her eyes widened slightly.

"You might want to think about that. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to return back to Delryn, well, I should. I've wasted enough time, and Imoen has only a little left before she fades entirely."

"But you… you're a…"

"Bhaalspawn? Yes. So is my sister. I love her, just as somewhere, deep down, you love your father. Did he ever really hit you, or was that just part of the act?"

Chewing her lip, she wouldn't answer.

"You do need your freedom, Iltha, but not from your father's 'confinement'."

Her cheeks flushed, "What do you know?!"

"I know you're hurting, and you know the lie for what it is, that you want to believe it even though you know it's wrong."

"Who – who are you?!"

My smile was slight, "A mortal, like you." I glanced at the water dripping down the natural cave walls, and offered her my arm, "Take me back."

Ashen, her face fell. Pity surged inside me, "I won't tell your father how you've betrayed him," I promised, "you'll do that for yourself." After a moment I added, "I doubt he knows. His despair is over his wife's loss; I won't leave him heartbroken over his daughter's."

"You're cruel," she whispered, her hands clenching and eyes down.

"No, cruel is what you've done to him. What that wyrm has done. Firkraag has taken everything from him, and he doesn't even know it."

Her tears began to fall.


	55. Fools Charge In, part 6

By the time we had returned to her father's house, the drugs had left my system, as had the bluntness; silence replaced it, which both suited her well enough and tore at her. She wanted to ask how I knew, but couldn't bring herself to; she hated me for stripping away the fabric of lies, hated me for the truth she knew and feared. Whatever 'interest' she once held in me was lost; begrudging admiration, perhaps, but none of the kindness. Any 'innocence' had been lost; reality was cold and hard, and I had shamed her. She would not forgive me for it.

Had I had prior knowledge of this? I did not have that sort of foresight, but lying there, at the dragon's feet, on the cold stone floor, things fell into place. The drugs had not addled me; they had offered clarity, even as they left my limbs leaden. I wondered if that was part of the wyrm's game, or if it was simply a side effect.

I looked at Iltha; she turned away.

During the night, Ilvastarr died. It was only for a few heartbeats, but it was enough to shake Delryn. Gerran still hadn't returned, and while Delryn beseeched his gods, fasting from food and drink, and begging like a man possessed. Perhaps the lesson had taught him humility; that he must answer for his actions, instead of pleading others to fix his mistakes. Whatever the gods' plan, I had more pressing matters.

Iltha stayed out of my way. I did not approach her, but stayed in the guest room, the door locked. I prepared myself for my greatest battle, perhaps my last. Had I been a monk, or a knight, I might have cleared the room of all distractions, leaving a stark, empty cell. It wasn't necessary. All I needed was time, time without interruptions. I would have but one attempt, and if I failed, Imoen would perish.

The grey fog of the dream faded to cloudy black; I had not far to go. The red scaled wyrm was deep in slumber; he did that often nowadays. His games were half-hearted now, malicious, but lacking the cruelty he had shown in his youth. Being a dragon did not impress him as much as it used to; now he just occasionally toyed with things to pass the time.

Once he had manipulated all Athkatla and the lands beyond; he had steered them to great internal strife and out of it. Guild against guild, family against family; brother against brother, father against son. He would claim all, delighting when others foiled his plans, but always taking his total revenge. Victory now had lost its allure; it seemed a hollow thing.

The manling girl had been too easy to turn; he had wrapped her around his claw as easily as she wrapped hair around her finger. At first, there had been the thrill, the rush of triumph, and then it dulled, faster than before. Taking everything from Gerran but his life had seemed so apt, but now it did not interest him. It hardly seemed worth revenging himself on so petty a man.

He was tired. The affairs of mortals did not interest him any more; he liked to believe they did, but the truth was mortals' nature never changed. Their culture, language and borders did, the faces did, but it was always the same old cycle over and over. Death, birth, life; war, struggle, strife; petty, petty beings that never learned from one generation to the next. It was like crushing ants. Even the longer lived races bored him. The elves were no better than the humans, always fighting amongst themselves while preaching about 'purity' and 'light', or worshipping 'darkness' and sacrifice. It seemed so pointless.

Treasure had long since lost its allure, and he had not the desire or the need to take a mate. Besides, a child would only uproot him, challenge him for his domain and then he would have to set the upstart straight, or lose everything and fly away to some cave, lick his wounds and return, or die defeated. What sort of fate was that?

Melancholy set in, and even as he dreamed his draconic dreams, he sighed. He didn't even care about the outcome of the Bhaalspawn conflict; mortals and their gods. What was the point? Perhaps it was time he retired from the world, slept for a century or two. Perhaps then things would have changed enough to interest him again.

In his sleep, his claw scratched at a stray scale; he was beginning to shed, and that always put him in a depressive mood. He would have to find a way to cheer himself up.

I watched; I felt no pity, only calm. While Firkraag brooded, I waited, and then, I stepped into his dream, and drew him into my own. The transition was smooth, seamless. Just as his thoughts changed, wondering what plots he could scheme, I struck.

He was unprepared for it; no one had challenged him since Gerran's youth. The last had been a group led by Keldorn Firecam, and before that, a plot of his had been foiled by a sage, Gorion, later of Candlekeep. Gorion had died when he wasn't looking, robbing him of revenge, so instead, he would toy with his wards, but one had been captured and the other searched for her. He would have his pet seduce the boy, then reveal it meant nothing; if Gerran's girl developed affection for him, so much the better. It would make victory all the more succulent.

Now I showed him what I was, what I truly was. Down and down we descended into darkness, into the realm of the skull. Blood burnt at the edges of the circle as crimson flames; skulls carpeted the floor, and darkness filled them. Murder.

The wyrm was surprised; confused by the shift in the dreams. The voices of the slain, murdered by his will, called to him. They called his name. A power beyond his own, a power he had no control over: death. He could only deal it, he did not rule it. Murder. Murderer. His petty schemes were as nothing; ichor dripped, flowing from the skull. Where the eyes should be, only black pinpricks that drank the light.

This was _my_ dream, my domain.

He tried to back away, shifting uneasily in his sleep; to his disgruntlement, then fear, he could not. I trapped him; he railed against it, flailing wildly; it took all I had to keep him contained. All the time, the voices called. Murderer. Murderer. Their bones rose from the ground; a legion of skeletons. Those who had died because of his schemes, the bystanders, the affected. He could not escape them; he lashed out at them. Breaking them did nothing; they reformed. Fire could only bring ash, and the scattered ash reformed. Murder. Murderer.

 _"Bhaalspawn!"_ He roared, _"treachery!"_

Time to die, the voices said, time to pay.

Their hands reached for him, dragging him down; they pulled at his scales; he shook them off, more grasped for him. More and more; they pulled him down. The darkness descended, slowly, then faster. It closed in; the dead crawled over him, pulling at him, stabbing.

 _"Mercy!"_

"Where was the mercy you showed them?" Iltha's voice asked, though outside the dream, her lips never moved. The sirines' song began to sound, eerie, haunting. Softly, then louder. Firkraag scream did not drown them; it lasted an eternity.

His thrashing did nothing, and then, with the last of my power, I bent my mind against him; everything went dark.

His will broke.

He was mine. In that instant, those he had wronged, were avenged. I had the means to Spellhold. Then I passed out, utterly exhausted.


	56. Spellhold, part 1

Spellhold

Iltha tapped on the door. "You were right," she admitted from the doorway after several minutes. Her dark eyes were red, but her cheeks freshly washed. Pity surged once more.

"Come with me," I offered, "to the De'Arnise lands. You and your father both. Nalia… she would treat you well. She has no sisters of her own, and has lost her father. You are family, you could make a life there."

Hesitation gripped her. On the verge of refusing, I robbed her of her denial as I took her chin. "There's nothing noble about staying here. Your father needs you, and you need to show him you are living in the present; it will draw him from the past. You'll be closer to Athkatla, but still removed from the politics. Your father can still host guests, and his experience will help steady an inexperienced young woman with a huge burden on her shoulders. You will gain a sister, and perhaps, even find someone who will marry you." I added with a slight smile, "it need not be a paladin."

Her own smile was sheepish, bashful, and unsure.

"You wanted to leave this place, to have friends. Let me take you from here."

Finally, she nodded, tears filling her eyes anew. I realised how pretty she was, and how young. How had she fared growing up without a mother? With a father's grief? A home and life lost. I had known no mother; should I have shown more understanding?

I took her hand, and without awkwardness, drew her into my arms. As she wept, I stroked her long, dark hair. So vulnerable and frail; did she realise the monster that held her?

"You are avenged," I told her, lifting her chin, "Firkraag will trouble you no more."

Her eyes widened. "You… you never left your room…"

"I did not need to."

Terror filled her; I shushed her. My thumbs wiped away the tears of relief, as giddy disbelief took her.

"He's… really gone?"

"He's really gone." His mind had snapped, and as he had broken others, now he was broken; the wyrm was mine to command. All it took was a thought, and he would obey. He was enthralled more than the slaves the sirines took. "All that remains is a shell, a husk."

Not understanding, she frowned.

"It's not important; all that matters is he'll never trouble you again."

She nodded, desperately wanting to believe me.

"I've done what I came here to do; all but one. Only one other thing besides that remains." My steady words calmed her; they provided the stability she needed. It was not my first choice of forms, but the formality was what she was used to, even expected. She had, after all, grown up with knights visiting her.

"As soon as your father arrives with the priest-physician, I will return to the De'Arnise lands. You, Ilvastarr, your father, the priest and Delryn will join me."

Her quizzical look prompted a response.

"Ever ridden on the back of a dragon before?" I couldn't mask my grin any longer. Open disbelief shone from her face; then she glared, as if I was mocking her. "Step outside, my dear, if you don't believe me." I reconsidered, "Or better still…"

The wyrm that was once Firkraag walked by the window.

She screamed; I held her arms. Trembling violently, she pressed into my chest, then shrank back. I pulled her close, and smoothed her hair. By the time she'd recovered, she was ready to be cross with me. I deserved it, but so did she. Before she could slap me, march from the room, or launch into a tirade, assuming her ire had overcome her fear of me, I told her "Fair's fair. You drugged me and left me to wake up at a dragon's feet."

Hesitantly, she nodded. Squeezing her shoulders, I smiled, "Perhaps we should eat now? I don't know about you, but my stomach's fit to growl for a month."

It wasn't quite true, but it had the desired effect; the mundane calmed her more than I ever could, and I squeezed her fingers; gratefully, she squeezed back and smiled up at me.

Perhaps she would forgive me after all.

How much had I changed? This wasn't like me at all; where was the boy who liked his books, keeping himself to himself? The young man who surrounded himself with wolves, gnolls and xvarts? Who chose the company of sirines? Had facing down a dragon changed me all that much?

Or was it that I had faced myself? Faced the darkness within.


	57. Spellhold, part 2

The physician-priest arrived later that afternoon. He immediately set about tending to Ilvastarr, and after sparing a glance, left the squire where he was, passed out on the floor. Evidently, Delryn had not heard the scream; his insistence on forgoing food, drink and sleep had finally taken their toll. Either that, or the gods had finally grown tired of his pleas, and put him out of his misery for however short a time.

Gerran was overjoyed to hear of Firkraag's demise; I did not go into detail, nor did I claim credit for it. Finding me sat beside his daughter at the dining table playing cards had surprised him, I think. How Iltha jumped up, ran over and flung her arms around him, kissed his cheek and started spilling out how much I'd done for her surprised him more. The astute look turned to amazement, and then grief, as she admitted how Firkraag had lied to her. I said nothing, but the show of hurt on his face made me look away. She sunk to her knees, took his hand and promised she would never betray him like that ever again, and how she had simply being frustrated, bored and lonely.

To his credit, Gerran lifted her to his feet, smoothed back her hair and kissed her brow, embracing her as if seeing her for the first time. I couldn't help but smile, a painful lump choking my throat. I was growing soft and sentimental.

Gerran's thanks were too much, and I could not accept them; I was a being of born of Murder, and for the first time, I had killed directly. I felt filthy and ashamed inside. I had taken a sentient creature's mind, broken and bound it to my will. Even if I released Firkraag, he would never be the same again, and I had no intention to. A dragon's revenge, even a broken one, was to dangerous to risk. If I could leave him in the care of another, I might, but for now, he was dead.

I had killed before, through others, but never quite like this. At first, I had felt the rush, the thrill, and the joy of victory; I had consoled Iltha and later, I felt remorse. Not regret; I still needed to save Imoen, but remorse nevertheless. Forced to wait for Gerran's return, I had had to face myself while we played cards. I could not have moved Ilvastarr without killing him, and leaving Gerran to find an empty home would have shattered him. As much as I hated it, I had to wait, and with the waiting had come reflection.

"No," I shook my head, "this is a sombre moment; a mighty wyrm is slain." I inclined my head towards Iltha, "it is a moment of joy also, but we should remember the cost. He… he could have done so much more; had he aided others instead of manipulating them…" I shook my head a second time, "but those he slew can finally rest." I hesitated, "Your wife is avenged."

The relief and grief in Gerran's eyes hurt me; tears welled up and he gripped my hand, nodding. I felt ashamed; Iltha had not told him I was a Bhaalspawn, but then he said what a "great service" I'd rendered, not only to his family, but to Athkatla and all the surrounding lands. I turned away.

Iltha spoke, her voice soft, slow, but certain. "You… are more than what you are, my lord."

When had I become a lord?

"Justice has been served, just as you promised. You have honoured your word, and more." Then she added gently, her dark eyes holding mine, "This wasn't murder."

"Wasn't it?" I wondered. I was simply stronger than the wyrm; I had ambushed him with gifts not of my own earning, but an inheritance of my mother, my father. My birthright. I was as much a monster as Firkraag; I had _enjoyed_ the victory, and just as he, I knew how hollow it was.

She took my hands, overlaying her father's, "No. It was the only way to free us, to get to your sister. It is on his head; had he not accosted you, Lord De'Arnise would be alive; you would be with Imoen, and Sir Ilvastarr would not lie stricken."

Delryn would also still be insufferable, but I kept that thought to myself. Outwardly, I nodded, accepting her words. "I still killed for personal gain."

"Lad," Gerran addressed me, looking me straight in the eye, "your actions were for another. The wyrm paid for its work."

"It did not wish me dead though."

"Not today, but tomorrow? He has never let anyone go who slighted him. He had centuries to change."

"Aye, and I may have ended him before he could." I considered, "Part of him remains. Perhaps… once all this is over, I will release him."

"You can't!" Iltha gasped, "He's too dangerous! He'll kill you – he'll kill us all!"

I smiled gently at her, "By that time, I'll be dead, or I'll be a god."

Gerran frowned, not understanding.

What was meant to reassure Iltha did not; she looked frightened. I sighed. "Even if I fall, the wyrm will not be released. His will is shattered, his mind broken. He cannot hurt you or anyone else."

"It's not him I fear for."

I glanced away; Gerran smiled at his daughter, and she had the grace to blush. Fortunately, the physician-priest chose that moment to walk out of Gerran's room. "He'll live." A side-back glance towards Delryn, "So will the squire."

"Can they be moved?"

"Yes, though I don't advise it."

"How long?"

"A few days, perhaps ten, a month; I cannot say."

"Go," Gerran said, "We'll look after them."

I looked at Iltha, who smiled.

"You will ride to the De'Arnise keep?"

"I promise."

"Go with him," her father urged, "I… can spare you." The news of Lord De'Arnise's death saddened him greatly; I saw it painted across his eyes.

"All of you go," The priest told us, "I will watch over him. You can do nothing here, Gerran. Go pay respects to your wife's brother."

For the first time, I saw hesitation in Gerran. "She… she won't want to see me."

"That vicious harpy will have to learn there's more to life than what she wants. It's about time you faced her. For your sake, and hers."

Unhappily he nodded.


	58. Spellhold, part 3

The shock of riding via dragon was one that soon gave way to awe, then joy. We hung on, having tied ourselves in; the horses' saddles wouldn't fit, and we kept below the clouds. Few saw us until we came in range of the fields, and then the screams began. When we finally landed in the De'Arnise lands, outside of bow-range, the stir was one akin to panic. Before we arrived, recalling the sirines' instruction, I blended both myself, Firkraag-that-was, Delryn, Garren and Iltha with our surroundings. Veiled from sight, except to each other, we undid the knots and descended from the beast's serpentine back.

I felt better for having used my powers; my essence was not as drained as I thought. I wanted to laugh; Iltha hugged me in delight, her breath gone. We were alive, and had ridden the mightiest of foes. If Delryn had ever bragged about battles before, none compared to the reality. For once, he was silent.

The tales of a red wyrm preceded us, and releasing us from the blend, I led us towards the keep. Firkraag-that-was I kept hidden; it became a slight note in the back of my mind, something I periodically checked, but I realised it took no effort to hold it. As long as he stayed still, and he did, once he lay down, I did not need to do anything with it. After a time, I even forgot it was there.

Entering the courtyard, we were greeted by a bustle that was absence before our departure; Delryn was stunned by the tent city that had sprung up, seemingly overnight, and by the construction of new cottages and crafthouses. Already aware of the refugees, I remained unfazed, much to the knight's annoyance. If I had developed an irritating perchance for already knowing the unknowable, then perhaps it would quell his boorish tales of bravado? Iltha fixed me a look, and I sighed; somehow, her fingers had found mine and she squeezed.

As we passed under the gatehouse, Nalia came rushing out to meet us. She stopped, stared at us, and remembered her decorum. Seconds later, she was joined by Jaheira, who looked fit to level the entire castle with a look, and then Aerie and Korgan; I hid a smile. The elf and the dwarf had both tried to squeeze (or shove) past the guards and take the stairs, caught one another and exchanged a glare; both immediately turned away, followed up by a gruff comment and shy apology. I did not hear what was said, but it was enough. Before Jaheira could voice her displeasure, or Nalia greet us, a roar emerged; everyone around us threw themselves down or cringed. Everyone except Jaheira, Nalia, Korgan, Aerie and I.

The tall, tattooed berserker let out his greeting, calling my name and asking how I'd been. I couldn't hide my smile this time; "Iltha, Gerran, allow me to introduce Minsc."

Iltha who had cringed and clung to my arm in a most painful manner, smiled wanly.

"He won't bite." I assured her, then realised she was staring at the orange rat on his shoulder, "That's Boo, his – uh, hamster."

"Hamster? It looks like a–"

I shushed her quickly, and shook my head slightly, "Never say that," I whispered, "He's very, uh, particular about his rat. I mean hamster."

She fetched me an odd look, but didn't argue. Instead, I smiled and looked at Nalia, "My lady, may I have permission to enter your abode?"

"Abode? You–" She shook her head, "Rumours have reached my ears of a red wyrm on the loose. I trust your… task was successful?"

"I'm ready to leave now, milady."

She smiled, then gave me a slightly disapproving look.

I cleared my throat, "Allow me to present to you the Lady Iltha, and her father, Lord Gerran–"

"Uncle," she greeted him with a smile, "Cousin."

"Lady De'Arnise, I've come to pay my respects to the late Lord De'Arnise. I have brought my daughter along, in the hopes she may learn what a great man he was."

"You are welcome, of course, both of you." If she was hurt by the mention of her father or confused, she hid it well.

Delryn frowned at me; I ignored it. I looked at Jaheira; her stare was frosty. Aerie's was happier; and Korgan's was both disapproving and broadly amused. At least _someone_ was glad to see me. Then I caught Gerran's gaze and followed it; from one of the top story towers, I caught sight of Nalia's aunt. She turned away and shut the window.

"My wife," Gerran said quietly to me.

I didn't know what to say to that.

Before I could form an intelligent reply, Edwin appeared looking irritated, and made one of his usual sarcastic remarks about "simians", "noise" and "disturbances", and how unwise it was to disturb a wizard at work. I waved to him, "Coming Edwin? We're off to get Imoen back."

"Why didn't you say so? (As if I'm supposed to know these things when I have work to do.)"

I could sense his excitement as he gathered his robes and strode towards us; for him, it was the same as breaking into a dead run. "Good to have you with us."

He brushed it off, but it pleased him.

"Oh no, you don't, you're not just leaving like that." Nalia addressed me as Aerie offered a welcoming smile, "you'll bathe and rest first, I insist." She stepped forwards to embrace first her uncle, planting a kiss on his cheek, and then her cousin. Iltha returned it with shyness and warmth.

Jaheira wheeled and went inside in stony silence.


	59. Spellhold, part 4

"So… Nalia's… aunt… was his wife?"

"It certainly seems that way." I commented offhand.

"Minsc doesn't understand."

I chuckled, "Nor do I, my friend, nor do I."

I had told them, in brief, what had occurred, filling in details as questions arose along the way. Korgan slapped his knee, guffawing that I had found myself drugged and at the feet of a dragon; Aerie and Nalia were far less impressed. I did not bring Iltha into it; I did not have to. They already suspected, and it only fuelled Korgan's amusement.

"Y-you shouldn't be so reckless," Aerie scolded, flushed slightly, and nodded firmly as Nalia echoed her a great deal more scathingly.

"You are fortunate to be alive."

I sighed. Two Jaheiras…

Edwin sneered, "So that fool knight proved his mettle as well as his brains? (Yes, I had suspected as much)."

We exchanged a glance, then wisely I chose not to comment; Nalia's eyes were flashing. Jaheira junior. I shrugged, "Regardless, we now have transport to Spellhold, though we may need more than ropes to fix us there. Saddles which be problematic, unless you can somehow convince the leatherworkers that you're saddling an especially obese plough horse." I paused when I caught her ladyship's look, "Or we could just use ropes."

"Wise choice," Edwin muttered, somewhat uncharacteristically as he discretely rolled his eyes.

"W-well, I think it's a g-good idea." Aerie chipped in, "The s-sooner we leave, the s-sooner Imoen is safe."

I couldn't argue with that; Minsc voiced his support and Korgan, as usual, claimed he didn't care as long as there were things to kill. Aerie gave him a reproachful look, and he didn't add more.

"Then everything's settled. We fly to Spellhold tonight."

Everyone fell silent; a prickling feeling ran along the back of my neck; half twisting, I turned to see Jaheira standing in the doorway. She was dressed for war.


	60. Spellhold, part 5

"I'm sorry," I apologised as I walked beside her; she did not acknowledge it, but her eyes flashed. "Jaheira…"

"I don't believe there is anything else to say."

I winced; at least she was talking to me? "I had to. For Imoen."

"You almost got yourself killed," Flatly, chilling. "You obviously know better, and my counsel is unneeded."

I caught her shoulder; she almost took my hand off. "Stop it," I hissed; we were alone, away from the children running up and down the corridor, the servants and others. "You would have done no less for her, for Khalid. I should have told you; I'm sorry. I couldn't risk you, or the others. For it to work, I had to get close."

She said nothing, but her look was accusing.

"You're angry, I understand–"

"You _don't_ understand," she growled, stepping closer; her face so near to mine I could feel my skin standing on end, "And don't you dare mention Khalid. You're reckless, foolish, and this is the second time you've done this."

"You're angry because I left you no choice in the matter; I made you helpless." As the words left my mouth, I realised the truth of it; the real reason why she was so furious. "You were worried–"

"Of course I was worried, you damned fool!" Her fingers jabbed my shoulder hard, "I made Nalia tell me; she didn't want to; I had to threaten her. Without us, she would no longer have a keep."

I swallowed, trying not to flex my aching shoulder.

"Jaheira–"

"No! I won't hear it!" She turned away.

"Won't you forgive me?" I asked in a small voice, my gaze lowered.

"No."

It struck harder than anything else she could have said or done. I was so shocked I couldn't move, couldn't think. After a moment, she amended, "Not yet." She whirled around, and then the anger drained out of her, "You stupid, stupid boy." Then she pulled me into her shoulder, and of their own accord, my eyes gave way to tears. The fear of losing her was greater than anything I'd expected.

"Now you know how it feels," her voice was gentle in my ear as she smoothed my nape, "next time… tell me."

"What if there isn't time?"

"Make time."

"I'm… sorry."

"I know," she sighed, "I know. I am too. You scared me…"

I swallowed.

After a moment, she stepped back, straightened my cloak and nodded curtly to herself, "There now. You look more like a man should."

What could I say to that?


	61. Spellhold, part 6

The flight was… wonderful. The air rushing through my hair; the chill stinging my face. As before, we kept low, steering shy of the clouds. From the keep we flew south, as the bird flies, and then south west. Jaheira checked the map with Edwin and her arguing over it; Aerie huddled up behind Korgan, using him as a windbreaker, and Minsc took the rear, absolutely fascinated with how small everything looked. He would point all this out to Boo, who may or may not have had a slightly wild expression in his eyes; I couldn't tell if it was glee or fear.

In spite of my protests, Nalia insisted on coming, doggedly refusing to hear my words, and said she had vowed to lend her aid, and I would not cause her to break her honour. Of course, that had led to Delryn deciding that _he_ should come; he had to atone for his past folly. I suggested he stay and watch over Ilvastarr, but he dismissed it, saying that he could serve better at my side. The look Nalia gave me was determined; Aerie's was both pleading and suggested I shouldn't be unfair, and so I had given in.

When I suggested Aerie stay behind, one look had caused me to rethink, and from the way _her_ eyes flashed, and subsequent sniff, I should never have been so foolish as to even think it. No one would even hear of staying home; that we all thought of the keep as home now ought to have spoken for itself, but quite what it said, I wasn't sure. I found I had grown quite strongly attached to this strange band of mismatched individuals, and I was touched by their loyalty.

Demanding a vow of silence, I had finally told them the truth; some already knew. Korgan found it both impressive and wondered what it was to have the power of a dead god; I warned him it was only a portion, and of the risk, and he just shrugged it off with a loud "bah!"; Edwin was nodding; he knew from Imoen, and Delryn was really the only one aside from the dwarf who didn't know. His face paled, but he nodded. I don't know what went through his head, but the vow of silence was for him, rather than the others. Whether he knew it or not is a question left to him and the sages.

I told them about Irenicus, finally revealing his name. Jaheira's jaw clenched, but she otherwise gave no outward indication of her pain and grief; Minsc was filled with a swell of righteous anger, and vowed anew we would deliver "justice"; Delryn was horrified, and slowly, he laid his hand on Minsc's shoulder and vowed he would stand with us, or fall trying. At that point, I forgave him, and I suspect everyone else did too, not that Edwin would ever show it. He snorted at the vows, but his eyes promised a retribution of his own.

Jaheira said nothing, but she did not have to; we both knew she would visit a terrible fate upon our captor. Aerie surprised me the most; her quiet certainty that she would be with us until the end, as well as the shame that Irenicus was one of her people, all be it a distant wingless cousin. Korgan simply said we'd "split the bastard's skull open"; he stopped shy of saying how we'd use it for a mug thanks to Aerie's lips thinning, but I strongly suspected that was what he was about to follow up with.

There was nothing left to say, and shortly afterwards, we checked and rechecked we had everything, and slipped out of the keep under cover of night.

Far from the shore, Aerie gave a gasp of wonder at the sea; we stopped when we reached the beach, touching down beside the edges of a forest. A quick scout around revealed we were alone; fortunately there were no sirines or others to bar our way. While others relieved their more pressing needs, stood and drew strength in the silent company of each other's presence, I stripped off and entered the sea.

I felt several eyes on my back, some mildly bewildered, uncomfortable, others amused, and a few disapproving. I did not need to name names to know whose each belonged to.

When I finally resurfaced, I had what I needed, dried myself off, and prepared.


	62. Spellhold, part 7

Before the dawn broke on the second day, we had reached the isle. Spellhold loomed out of one end, a horrible construction of wood, bricks and mortar; everything was rotten, battered by winds and waves. It reeked. My first impressions did not change as we passed over it; I could feel the crackle of magic, the wards. Evidently, so could Edwin, Aerie and Jaheira. All wore coldly disapproving faces, though Aerie's was more determined than cold. The enchantments were thick and heavy; I knew little of its intricacies, but I could feel the menace of the place. It almost seemed… alive; as if it fed off the torment of its inmates.

The asylum was the last place I would ever leave Imoen in; fury took hold of me, and Firkraag-that-was opened his maws and spat a jet of flame the set the sodden roof ablaze.

No one was surprised; I sensed their agreement. Our wills seemed joined as one; acting in union, united for this single, terrible purpose. We would tear this place down around us, and leave nothing but the charred remains.

"Eat dragon-fire, ye bastards!"

Aerie echoed Korgan with a cry of her own, then covered her mouth at her profanity.

"There lass, ye see, it's easy."

Another time, I would have shot them an amused look over my shoulder; now I was too busy scorching the place. It had the intended effect.

Our captor, who had for so long evaded us, appeared. His masked face was just the same, but his pale blue eyes were faintly annoyed. Unfeeling as he was, we had disrupted his plans. Firkraag-that-was shot another stream of fire; the blaze was already spreading.

"So. You brought a dragon along. How wonderfully mad of you." Irenicus' voice was scathing, dead. Nearby the inmates were breaking free and running outside. His shield flared golden, the sphere repelling the stray spells the inmates threw at him. Their eyes were hateful; his latest victims.

Edwin lobbed one of his own; a black-green ray.

"Puny mageling, your spells are nothing."

A second later, Aerie and Delryn both unleashed incantations of their own; dual beams of light struck the shield and shattered. Then with quick whispered gestures, they followed it up. Edwin released a spell of his own with it. Three globes struck the golden nimbus, and for a second, it wavered, then shattered.

"Now!" Edwin hissed.

Irenicus was in the middle of chanting his own invocation, utterly disdainful of the inmate's attempts to kill him. Before he could speak further, Nalia's arrow caught him. Our captor gasped.

"You _dare_ – to poison – _me_?"

I did not smile, but grimly stepped into the waking dream. I drew Irenicus in with me, and faced him as I had Firkraag, "We're in my world now," I envisioned the jar, knowing this place was a jar. I was the one staring through the glass this time.

"No god-child, we are not–"

"That poison you feel will freeze your limbs, your jaw." I was not one to gloat, but I felt detachment as I 'walked the dream. Irenicus' consciousness, taken form as if he stood there in the flesh, remained still.

"I – no!" The first vestiges of rage, fuelled by the echoes of hate; but only a trace, the rest was gone, absent. Nothing. "I cannot be contained; I cannot be controlled."

I gasped; my eyes saw the world. He had burst out of the dream. We were… back outside…

Fire exploded from him; when it faded, he was gone.

"Is-is he dead?" Aerie dared ask, breaking the stunned silence.

I shook my head, suddenly defeated. I heard my own, detached, "He purged himself."

"Madness," Edwin sneered in disgust, recovering his composure, "Only a fool–"

"He'll cannibalise another's blood, a leech spell," Jaheira spat, "Abomination."

For once, everyone was in agreement.

"Imoen," I whispered, my last thought to steer the dragon down, as darkness flooded me.


	63. Spellhold, part 8

"So you think you have stopped me, god-child?" _His_ voice sounded in my head, "You have only proven to be a _slight_ delay. Enjoy your precious Imoen."

I awoke screaming.

"Brother, what is it?"

I stared at her, "I… I know what he's done to you."

She squeezed my hand; as I slipped away from the waking world, I realised in horror she did too.


	64. Not Over Yet, part 1

Not Over Yet

"Wake up," I felt a familiar hand shake me, "Always sleeping."

"Imoen?"

"That's right, it's me! Heya!" She carefully flung her arms around me, and ruffled my hair. "Knew you'd come for me."

"It this a dream?" I asked in wonder. "Ow!"

"That answer you?"

"No need to pinch so hard!" I grumbled, rubbing my thigh; she grinned, I smiled. Then she kissed me.

"I love you, little brother," she whispered, tears suddenly appearing. "I – I was almost gone… and you… every night you… it musta killed you…"

I didn't reply.

"You were! I knew it! You _were_ dying; I felt it – you…"

"I love you," I said quietly.

"You… you must never do that again!"

I wouldn't answer.

She sighed, then kissed me again, clinging tight.


	65. Not Over Yet, part 2

"Bodhi will know where he is," Imoen addressed us; quiet, withdrawn, she seemed pale, wan.

"Bodhi?" Aerie asked; she seemed unsure of how to behave around the young woman she'd been trying to rescue for so long. She offered her a shy smile, and Imoen returned it tightly.

"His… sister. The vampire. She would come to watch me."

I stayed silent; we both knew what she was thinking. Bodhi had her soul.


	66. Not Over Yet, part 3

"Look after Nalia," I told her later, "I'll be back soon."

"You're not leaving without me!"

"You're too weak," I told her bluntly, "You can barely stand for more than two minutes. You're staying here. The dragon will defend the keep while I'm gone."

For once, Imoen gave in without arguing. I found myself intensely suspicious of how quickly she agreed. She caught my hands, then kissed me, her eyes ever so distant. I found myself unsure of how to respond; finally, after all this time, I had her back, but not all of her. There was so much to say, and none of it needed. I didn't even know where to begin.

"I – looked after Edwin for you," I managed, "and Jaheira looked after me."

"I know." It seemed slightly uncharacteristic of her to be so solemn, but she was not herself.

"I need to borrow him for a while longer."

She nodded, then smiled tightly, "Go, little brother."

I hesitated, then kissed her back, "I'm so sorry."

I turned and strode from the room before she could assure me otherwise; I still heard her whisper. It was enough for her that I'd come at all. For me, nothing would ever be enough until she was restored.


	67. Not Over Yet, part 4

There were other reasons for leaving Firkraag-that-what behind; aside from drawing too much attention to us, he could be of little use underground. We did not know where Bodhi's lair was, but as half of the city had been razed by fire, and Irenicus' base had been beneath the cellars, it seemed likely Bodhi's was as well. Of course, it could have been anywhere. I, however, had flooded Imoen with much of my divine essence; though it was faint, I could feel it. It was tugging, calling to me. Whatever part of me I had given Imoen before her soul was ripped from her was now in Bodhi.

I don't know how long I was subconsciously aware of this; it had taken me this long to recover from supplying Imoen my power. Now she was back, and I was stronger, I began to focus on the faint draw; the tug became stronger, firmer. It was time to begin siphoning my power from the soul-thief.

"Where do you think you're going?"

I found myself face to face with Jaheira; hadn't she been talking with Imoen? …of course she had. "I – I need someone to look after Imoen."

"Ye still ain't paid me yet, laddie."

Korgan too?

"Minsc's sword will meet the evil mage that hurt Imoen!"

I looked helplessly at them; they had ambushed me in the doorway before the courtyard.

"Did you think you simians could slay a vampire alone? (And to think of all the forbidden lore I shall learn)."

"Child, I've watched you this far."

"Aerie?"

"I'll stay here, _if_ it will set your mind at rest."

I sighed. "Nalia? Delryn?" The corner of my eye glanced over my shoulder; they had both appeared behind me; Nalia's arms were folded. Iltha was beside her cousin; the two had become inseparable, though they did not agree on _everything_ ; the few times I'd tried to see Nalia, they were deep in discussion in her rooms, and Nalia's arched eyebrows had met me, and Iltha glared, or looked away. At which point, I stated what I needed, intended, or left. Usually it was the former. I noticed Iltha leaned towards a sky grey-pale pastel blue with white and yellow flowers embroidered on the hem; she was slender, more so than Nalia, who seemed trim, but Iltha was a few years younger.

Gerran spent much time with the captain of the guard, and his presence bolstered the men's morale, and paladin-style drills were increasingly implemented.

"I shall accompany you," The squire pledged, "For it is right to rid such evil from my beloved city." He hesitated, "I admit, my heart has sorely longed for the opportunity to root out this abomination."

I looked at Nalia, clearly asking if he was better suited – that is, needed – at the keep. She gave the slightest headshake; to leave him behind now would cripple his confidence. He _needed_ to prove himself, to himself, that he was not an utter failure. Tempting though it was to leave him, he would provide a strong sword arm.

"Someone needs to defend the keep," pointedly, I met Nalia's eyes; she nodded thoughtfully, then smiled, and touched Aerie's elbow; the priestess smiled shyly. I wasn't convinced leading the elf underground was a good idea anyway. Nalia understood, and something passed between us; curtly, I dipped my head the barest fraction. Nalia returned it respectfully; respect? Was that even admiration? I sighed inwardly; I'd lost.

"And don't you forget it," someone muttered my unvoiced thought. I couldn't have guessed who it was.

"Very well. We'll split into two parties. Delryn, Korgan, and Edwin; Jaheira, I and Minsc on the other. Aerie, Nalia, and Iltha, you stay here and hold down the fort." I pondered for a moment, "Firkraag-that-was remains here, but Imoen can command him."

I wasn't entirely convinced she could, but I wasn't sure she couldn't; she retained enough of my essence that it should be possible. Bodhi, on the other hand, should not; the majority of my power had gone to Imoen _after_ her soul was stripped from her.

"So, when do we leave, o fearless leader?"

From the slightly wry tone, I gathered it wasn't necessary to reiterate the plan; whether the scepticism was about Imoen's command of the wyrm or simply my 'command', I don't know. I fetched her a slightly sour look, then considered aloud, "Bodhi may try to end Imoen quickly; she – she'll die without her soul," I failed to keep the tremble from my voice, then steeled myself; amongst the wave of sympathetic looks, I tried a grateful half-smile, "the spell – it'll eat away at her until there's nothing."

The looks hardened.

I took a deep breath, "so she must be protected. Arm your guards with stakes, and have the priest–" I nodded to Aerie, "prepare sanctified water, and ward the place as best you can." I was stating the obvious now; I forced myself to speak calmly and not rush, "braziers at every point, with irons and torches. Remember they can scale the walls; many of the vampires were thieves in life. Bodhi should have her hands full with the guild war, and the paladins and cowls, so it's doubtful she'll mount a full scale assault, but a lone assassin? Imoen must be guarded at all times. Once she's gone, there will be little chance of recovering her soul; it will be lost when we slay Bodhi." I looked directly at Edwin, "unless someone here knows soul-extracting magicks they've not been telling me about?"

The wizard gave a derisive snort.

"Then we proceed." I halted, then forced myself to finish with a tight smile, "I know you all know all this–"

"We understand." Nalia spoke gently; Aerie's eyes welled with compassion, and Iltha, standing half a step behind Nalia's shoulder, smiled back at me. "We'll protect her."

"I know, and thank you." I was surprised there were no remarks about my weakness; everyone was nodding, or watching. I drew in a deep breath, "I can _feel_ the vampire – what she's taken. I… sustained Imoen in our imprisonment and after, draining my essence to fill her."

There was an audible gasp from Iltha, and Nalia's eyes widened. Aerie's flooded with unshed tears; even Edwin looked stunned.

I added a little sadly, "Had I continued, I would have died." I did not look at Jaheira; I felt her disapproval. "When Bodhi took what wasn't hers, she also took a part of me. I can call on that part, draw it towards myself; that is how I know where they are. So here's the plan. We find the lair, and we infiltrate it with as many paladins as possible. I assume your order will heed you?" I studied Delryn closely; his uncertainty did not fill me with confidence. "Failing that, we open up the roof from within. Your magicks, Edwin, should be able to burst open the passageways without collapsing the supports?"

"What sort of lame parlour-monkey does he think I am? Can I, the great Edwin Odesseiron, shatter rock and crumple earth? Does the sun shine?"

"Thanks, Edwin," I turned to the two berserkers, "I'm counting on the two of you to hold off the vampires; Delryn will shield Edwin; Korgan and Minsc, I'll need you to clear a path. Jaheira and I will advance behind you. I'm hoping that we'll be able to trap the vampires and give us a point to fall back to. With any luck, Edwin's magicks will alert the cowls, and they'll show up–"

"At which point we may have a fight on our hands," Jaheira nodded dryly.

"Delryn – you'll be in your order's attire; when they see that, they should think us allies."

"If they don't think us vampires…" Jaheira added.

"It should not be uncommon that bands of hunters are out." Delryn actually agreed with me.

"W-we could always dress as guards," Aerie suggested, then added in a small voice, "A-are you sure you do-don't want me to come? I might be of more use…"

"No." I said firmly, "if they come for Imoen, you'll be needed her."

Delryn's eyes fixed on Aerie in both wonder and pity, "Your beauty has no place in the depths, Lady Aerie." Everything about his brown gaze was filled with sincerity. He had no knowledge of her fear of enclosed spaces.

"Seems like you've got everything figured out, little brother. I go away for a couple of months, and you take my place as leader! Heya!" Imoen called cheerfully, waving and smiling to everyone in turn; she winked at Edwin, and her smile softened for Jaheira.

I was expecting a remark about 'what are you doing out of bed', but the half elf merely smiled back; the degree of fondness shamed me. Minsc wrapped Imoen up in a great bear hug, and spun her around; laughing Imoen patted his huge shoulder, and reached to kiss his cheek. I felt a sudden pang; these were her companions; companions I had only been thrust upon…

Aerie touched my shoulder, as Jaheira and Imoen exchanged a rare, though intimate embrace. I turned and found the priestess smiling at me. Gently, she drew me aside, her eyes a mystery, "She's part of this too." I nodded, lost in my own thoughts; Nalia was waiting a little formally to one side, and Iltha shied back. She bumped into me; I wheeled and looked down at the girl before she could retreat, then saw my own sad smile reflected back at me in her eyes. She returned it, and somehow her fingers found mine, or mine found hers, and we squeezed.

Aerie had stepped alongside Korgan, half to keep him in order, and half to look after him, it seemed. While Nalia and Imoen tentatively exchanged formal half smiles, and then hesitant, then full hugs, Iltha slipped against my shoulder. Both of us felt like outcasts here.

Delryn bowed formally to Imoen, took her hand and kissed it; she smiled winningly while Edwin glowered, then murmured formalities, threw her arms around the startled, then blushing squire and kissed his cheek. Then she moved down to Korgan, solemnly kissed _his_ gnarled cheek, then tweaked his braided beard; the dwarf's scowl might've been a roar, and threats were about to follow, but Aerie placed her slender hand over his mouth. Incredibly, he hushed, then pinched the elf's rump; she slapped his hand absently, but otherwise did not seem to mind. More tentatively than Nalia, she exchanged a hug with Imoen, smiling at her.

"He has your eyes," she commented.

Imoen's eyes were _brown_. Mine were not. Why did others keep saying that?

"And you must be Iltha," Imoen smiled and gently took the girl's hands; Iltha flushed, and found herself pulled into a hug. "Don't let him bully you," she half-whispered, loud enough for all nearby to hear, looking pointedly at me, "if he does, or act all uninterested, you come talk to me. We'll soon sort him out."

 _Me_? Bully _her_?

Iltha smiled.

Korgan toyed with his beard, mortally offended, and Aerie hissed, "Stop fussing with it," then to my surprise, dropped to her knees and began re-braiding it for him; to my amazement, the dwarf actually looked self-conscious and made no attempts to grope her. In fact, I'd heard less lewd comments from him than Delryn. Aerie fixed him a smile, and he grumbled to himself.

Edwin, Imoen had saved until last, and the kiss she gave him was a kiss no brother should ever witness his sister giving. "Prude," Imoen murmured, before resuming; prude or not, I couldn't begin to guess _where_ she had learned… that, nor did I want to.

Jaheira wore a faintly amused, indulgent type of smile; Aerie looked at Korgan, who shrugged, then grunted as she frowned, and Nalia smiled in bemusement. Delryn looked jealous, wistful, and forlorn, and Iltha looked at me. Minsc didn't know what was going on, but was happy everyone else was happy and 'little Imoen' was back, and promptly began quizzing Boo about what 'they' were doing.

I began to shrug at Iltha, then froze; her look was disappointed, hurt and I sighed. I caught and squeezed her fingertips, and pulled her into a tight embrace, "We'll talk later," I promised, whispering into her hair, "when I return."

It may not have completely satisfied her, but she nodded, smiled slightly, and I suddenly wondered what I had let myself in for. I did not trust her look. Aerie and Nalia who had both glanced over wore identical smiles. I began to wonder if I should let Bodhi kill me… Iltha asked softly, "You will be careful, won't you?"

I couldn't get out of that one so easily. Maybe if I mentioned my four sirines…?

Her shoulders slumped when I didn't answer; Imoen was _still_ kissing a very smug and self-satisfied Edwin; "I promise," then added, "if you are too."

Iltha nodded.

Damn, damn, damn.

I looked at Nalia; the lady smiled – still! – and gracefully made her way over, her legs elegant under her dress, and eyes warm and indecipherable, took my hands and kissed my cheek, "Thank you," she told me, "from the bottom of my heart."

From my peripheral vision, I glimpsed her little cousin, and looked back at Nalia. Aerie had once said that had I asked, the noble would have married me; was that still true? I met her eyes and considered it for the last time. "Don't marry Delryn," I said quietly.

She stared at me, wide-eyed, then added in a tone only I could hear, "I wasn't going to."

I raised my eyebrow slightly; she flushed. "Well, not… really."

I ignored Iltha, "And me?"

She hesitated, then shook her head, painfully aware of Iltha, "Before… perhaps; now…? I can't."

"I know." I had always known, known that would be the cost of reuniting Iltha with her family. Part of me panged with regret, but only a small part. Briefly, I tightened my hold on her hands, "It could never have been. Wait for the right man."

Momentary hurt flickered, then acceptance.

I owed it to her to explain, "The destiny of all Bhaal's children is to kill each other." She knew that already; I closed my eyes, "Any… we had… would be hunted, if I can have any at all. Your home needs stability. My very being, my presence, brings chaos and strife." I didn't look at Iltha, "If I don't return–"

"You will, you must–"

" _If_ I don't, explain it to her." I hesitated, "If I fall… tell Imoen I love her."

She refused to answer.

"Promise me."

"Only if you promise to come back alive."

"Done."

And then I turned to face Imoen; ashen faced, she stared at me. She had heard every word. Rather than bolt, as many others might, she smiled, reached over and tousled my hair, "Tell me yourself."

"I love you, Imoen."

"I love you too, little brother." She hugged me tightly, "And you'd better come back alive," her eyes were suddenly fiercely bright, "or else I'm coming after you and draggin' you back." She prodded me; I winced, "So you'd better. I told Jaheira she'd better look after you."

I sighed. "Yes Imoen."

"Hey, don't sound like that – we're not married."

I exchanged a helpless glance with Edwin; he shrugged, equally lost.

"Go get her," Imoen turned and addressed us all, "Well, quit gaping, we've got work to do." She smiled, kissed my cheek, grabbed Iltha's hand, and was gone.

After a moment of staring after her, I turned and left; behind me, my friends followed.


	68. Bodhi's Lair, part 1

Bodhi's Lair

Why do my plans never go to plan? It was certainly a simple enough plan. And simple plans, I'm told, are the best. Of course, I hadn't counted on getting back _into_ the city. I had assumed that 'Squire Delryn's' surcoat would be enough, but typically, it wasn't. The gate guard was very insistent, and the seal on the city could not be lifted. In the end, we left and headed towards another gate; this guard was more accommodating, and immediately recognised Delryn's rank, bowed to him and saw us through with more respect than I've yet to see from any city guard. Perhaps being a member of the order _did_ count for something after all.

The trouble was, it was night by the time we entered the city; my plan depended on it being day. And just to spite us, clouds filled the sky. Grey for as far as the eye could see. This was more than a minor setback; daylight might _stop_ a vampire, but legend said sunlight would destroy it. Of course, this, like other legends, could be wrong. Just to complicate things even further, I soon realised that Bodhi would be able to sense my presence; the closer we came, the stronger the draw would be. She would try to drain all my essence, and take it for herself, no matter what Irenicus wished. I could feel her hunger, and with her sharpened senses… I knew it would not be long now.

If we confronted her in her lair, we would be drawn into her trap; if we stayed out here, she would send vampire after vampire to assault us; if we retreated, Imoen would slowly wither and die. I realise just how cruelly I'd been duped; this must have been the mage's plan all along. Or her plan.

It didn't alter ours.

Given the circumstances, we mutually agreed that visiting the Radiant Hart was our best course of action; I had heard much about the legendary Keldorn Firecam, and I wanted to see for myself if the tales were worthy of the man.

Firkraag-that-was had dropped us out of sight from the city; and while I did not like to leave Imoen without adequate protection, retrieving her soul was the greater need. This meant we lacked horses, and made traversing the city harder. Perhaps it was as well we moved at a slower pace; across the river, the wreckage meant we would have had to have dismounted anyway.

The blackened and still warm ruins were everywhere; smoke hung over the city in a low cloud. Debris lay strewn across every street; the smell of scorched wood, stone and flesh permeated our senses. It was a nightmare from one of my visions given form; I had never seen its like in the waking world. I was infinitely glad neither Nalia, Aerie or Iltha had seen this. Delryn was shaking; even Edwin had no comments to make. Everyone was grim; Minsc was on the verge of loosing his rage.

It was made worse by the fact the nobles' townhouses had survived; the temples were filled with grief, mourning and pleas to the gods. The chanting of the priests was augmented by the peoples' wailing. It rent my heart.

"This has to end," I said to no one in particular; Jaheira nodded, and laid a hand on my shoulder. I hadn't realise how helpless I was, or the tears that stung my eyes. I steeled myself, "This _will_ end."

Delryn could not speak, but his eyes were just as bright. At that moment, we had reached a common ground; an understanding. I knew that if I had to kill every single one of my siblings to prevent its like from happening again, I would do so gladly. The swarm of refugees we saw from the skies, the amount of dead; the pyres. Half a city… destroyed. It had not even been my kind, but this is what Sarevok had envisioned and worse. I should have been with Imoen when she faced Sarevok; I had not been. This time – this time would be different.

The sky was red and black; fire and smog, reflections in the water. We made our way towards the temples, towards the Radiant Hart's bastion. We were met by at least seven patrols; Delryn walked at our head, his surcoat and shield emblazoned with his order's sigil. Each patrol let us pass; three had paladins. The knights greeted their own, one with words, asking of news, and the other two with silent nods. Delryn bowed to each, and we headed towards the hill mounted citadel.

The citadel was surrounded by a moat; ceremonial or not, the bridge we used to cross it had been fortified. Marble faced walls and lofty pillars afforded us our first glimpse; inside, through the iron gates, were no different. A year and a half ago, in the height of the Iron Crisis, those doors would have been worth more than all the marble coating the exterior; elite guards allowed us to pass, and immediately, we stepped into the presence of wards. I felt myself wince; these was a sanctified place, yet I strode through the halls, a step behind Delryn. More columns, draped with the order's sigil, supported a vast vaulted ceiling. Marble and gold leaf were the staple here; rich, lush carpets, bright reds and yellows; wall mounted polished shields, swords and pikes, and the armours of the fallen, all lined the hall. Everywhere there were guards. An air of military precision held the place; for all its grandeur, this was an armed encampment.

We were halted once, and Delryn swore upon his honour, that he had word for "Lord Firecam" that "could not wait"; so earnest was the squire that his superiors allowed him passage. We were given suspicious looks, but Delryn vouched for us, saying we were bearers of the news. Begrudgingly permitted, we were led through to an inner set of chambers, to the prelate's solar, and more elite paladins. Barracks and armouries, storehouses and shrines made up these inner rooms, and then we found ourselves through a set of iron encased doors, and face to face with the prelate's throne.

A desk sat in one corner; opposite, a map covered an entire wall. No windows were present, and a rack boasted swords, spears, axes and other weapons. A particularly vicious morning star sat beside a heavy mace. I winced inwardly; either one of those terrible weapons would shatter bone and flesh alike in one blow.

An old warrior dressed for war, and stinking of the old armour he wore, rubbed to mirror-likeness greeted us tiredly, "Squire Delryn."

"Lord Firecam," Delryn bowed low, his respect for the man obvious; I could understand why. Amidst the scars, two frighteningly alert eyes looked out, astute, shrewd and assessing each one of us. A great broadsword lay strapped to his hip alongside a long dagger. Gauntlets hung from his belt, and his pauldrons had been repaired more than once. Instantly, I was aware something was wrong. Delryn broached the question after a few second's hesitation, "We bring word for my lord prelate, my lord…"

"The prelate's fallen." Firecam sighed heavily, glanced at the empty throne and then in surprisingly limber strides, made his way to the desk and poured himself a flagon of wine. He waved the silver jug at us; shaken, Delryn declined with a simple headshake; the rest of us followed suit. Tiredly, he drank, then added gruffly, "You say you have news? Speak, boy."

Delryn opened his mouth, but I forestalled him with a hand to his shoulder; he glanced behind him and I shook my head ever so slightly. He acquiesced with a slight bow.

If Firecam was surprised, he did not comment.

I stepped forwards, "You know who I am?" I addressed the knight, unsure of what I was going to say until now.

He ran his gaze across me, "Should I?"

I inclined my head slightly; I felt Jaheira frown.

"I lack the patience I once had for games, boy." His brown eyes sharpened, "I know of your companions."

"Then you know my sister."

He waited; so did I. After a moment, I added gently, "Her name is Imoen."

"So these are the 'Heroes of Baldur's Gate', the slayers of Sarevok." Firecam looked at me directly, "Sister you say? There are some who claim Sarevok was Bhaalspawn."

I said nothing.

"I have heard rumours, whisperings, that Sarevok was assassinated by another Bhaalspawn." He paused, "But I have no time for hearsay. State your business, or go."

"I know where Bodhi is."

That got his attention, as I thought it might. Her name alone ought to have caused a stir. For a second, he froze, then with the practiced discipline only years could bring, his composure returned, so quickly it was as if he had never lost it. Now I had his attention, I waited; so did he. It was my turn to break the silence; I was pointedly aware of my companions' breathing, "I am sure you have my questions, and doubts, but I have few answers. My sister is… indisposed. Bodhi stole something very precious from her; I'm here to get it back. If you are prepared to trust the word of one of your own," I nodded briefly towards Delryn, "then this war can be ended, and order restored. I am going after her, and then I am going after her brother."

I paused.

"I need not remind you what is at stake, or that you have this one, unique opportunity to bring the city under your control. With the thieves weakened, and many of the cowls slain, your order stands to gain a foothold that could endure for decades, even centuries."

"And what do you gain?" Firecam inquired softly, intently.

"Justice," I replied just as quietly. I considered, "Revenge is a hollow thing, and will not restore what was lost; is it not enough to rid the realms of so great an evil?"

"And if I aid you, will I be unleashing an even greater evil, Bhaalspawn?"

There was a collective intake of breath; Delryn was ashen.

I smiled without humour or warmth, "Will I in aiding you, paladin?"

Firecam's return was as grim, "Assurances?"

"Your paladins could turn on us as soon as the battle is over, if they did not abandon us before." Uncertain, I hesitated, then took a leap of faith, "Your word, paladin, for mine. I will not deviate from the path until Bodhi and her brother are slain, or broken of their power." I met him levelly, "A holy oath, before your gods, here in this temple."

Firecam rubbed his chin, considering, "You say 'your gods'; are they not yours also?"

"What use for gods have I, when I am consigned to such a fate as this?" I ignored my companions' shock; Delryn, Jaheira, even Minsc… only Korgan and Edwin were unsurprised. I continued, "We make our own destines, paladin, not those the gods' have set in store for us." I raised my hands, "Blood will drip down these fingers; nations will tremble and burn, and I, who am branded 'monster', will be the cause of this? Terror of the realms, kinslayer; I think not."

My words hardened, boring into him, into the gods that watched on, "Murder bred into our very bones, our essence, but blood is not so easily cheated; ties of love, of loyalty; these are the virtues of your order. I will kill my siblings if I have to; I will kill to protect my sister, my friends, the realms from this torment. I will not allow another city to burn like Athkatla has burned; not your noble dwellings, your shrines, temples and government offices, but her people, the true city. This is my fate; not the warlord at the head of an army, pillaging and destroying all in my path. In such destruction lies only ruin; Sarevok was a fool, corrupted by the madness of our sire; tell me, paladin, if murder was the strongest of divine rule, how did Bhaal fall? He was betrayed by his own power, consumed by it. I would be a fool to follow in his steps.

"I am not my father."

For a moment, the old knight was silent; then he nodded slowly, "Aye, you'll have your support. We'll flush out this huntress of the night together."

"My thanks." My words were clipped, my manner curt.

He chuckled lightly, "You'd have made a fine paladin, lad."

I wasn't sure what to say to that. Behind me, I felt Jaheira flushed with silent pride, felt the support of my friends. Korgan muttered a "Well said, lad," despite his convictions on battle and bloodlust; Minsc's gaze held a righteous fire that scared me, and Edwin snorted to himself; despite that, the wizard had been nodding, though how aware of it he was, I do not know. Delryn was still pale, but he too was in fierce agreement. All this I saw in Firecam's breastplate.

Firecam extended a hand; I reached for his, and he took my forearm, greeting me as a warrior. I felt as if I'd just completed a rite of passage.

"So where is she?"

I took a deep breath, and turned to the map, "Waukeen's promenade."

Jaheira whitened, fury holding her; Minsc was just as grim.

"Irencius' lair?"

"You know his name."

"Aye. We know of a few things," Firecam mused thoughtfully, "So, that is where she is hiding. It explains much. I would have thought it too dangerous after the mage's display."

"She knows I am here hunting for her."

He nodded slowly, "Then we must assume she knows you are here."

"What else do can you tell me?"

"I could ask you the same."

I allowed him that, "They are elves, exiles." I waited pointedly for him to consider this, then challenged, "Well, paladin?"

"There are many inside the remaining city who have gone over to her side, but that you have guessed." He examined the map, "We do not have an estimation of their numbers, but we have razed three of their… nests. The thieves have gone into hiding, and have doubtless fought and found other nests. The sewers have been sealed, their entrances warded."

"You must know more."

"Such as who you are, Bhaalspawn? I've known since you entered this chamber."

"Laurel." I said flatly.

"Aye, Laurel. Oh, have no fear lad, only I, the prelate and one other know. They are both dead." He added more gently, "She would not tell us where you were, but spoke of a tormented soul, a boy, at odds with his own destiny." His steady gaze focused on mine; I found myself unable to breath, my flash of ire fading, replaced by a wistful, almost painful longing, "A young man, an outcast, separated from civilisation by his own hand; one who cared for the monsters others slay without thought. She spoke of one who grieved for the 'beast' she had slain, how he knew it by name, and how he then spared her life, pleading with her not to return; not for his own sake, but for the sake of her and her brother-knights. This boy did not wish more blood to be shed, and did not demand retribution, as a knight would have done, but offered her her freedom."

The paladin stopped; I had no words. He continued, "She told us of what this boy was, of what the boy had shown her, reaching into her mind to reveal his heritage. Each night, she prays for him, prays that he will find peace." Firecam's tone changed, "A noble of Amn was hunting, a braggart, a spoilt, pampered arrogant daughter of a prominent, though minor house. She disappeared around the same region and was never found." Now he hardened, "Tell me, Bhaalspawn, what fate befell her?"

"Many nobles hunt," I heard myself say, aware of Jaheira's harsh stare, alternating between Firecam and my back, "but some prey on innocents." My own tone became low, soft, and carried an acid edge, "A group of riders, adolescents, picking berries and nuts for winter are set upon by monsters carrying bows; they are not armed for war, but are as children. Their steeds frolic in the snow, playing with each other. Without warning, they are fired upon; say their mounts' hide will fetch a few coins, but to the riders, their mounts are beloved companions. What knight does not know the bond between him and his horse?"

Firecam did not answer.

"Masked by magicks, these 'noble hunters', steal close, like thieves. They sight their victims, and without remorse, unleash their deadly arrows." My face revealed no sign of the rising fury within me, the pained memories, "The difference, Sir Knight, between this and the _paladin_ was intent. Yours avenging the death of her comrade, chanced upon a patrol, and feared for her safety. The other was murder.

"I repaid each accordingly. Had I not, she would have gone on to kill more. You decide if 'justice' was dealt out, or if I am the true evil here."

There was a lengthy silence.

"You did what many others would have done, myself included." Firecam allowed at last, "and showed mercy where others would not have."

"Why did you clasp my hand if you knew this of me?"

"I wished to know your reasoning." A pause, "but have a care that 'justice' does not turn into 'hate', or 'revenge'. Revenge is indeed hollow, but in the heat of battle, in its aftermath, in the cold numbness, reason gives way to uncaring."

"Trying to save my soul as well?"

He smiled gently, "You show courage in coming here, and even greater courage in revealing what you are. I'll not be your foe unless you make me it." He turned to Delryn, "Your silence does you credit, boy. You've learnt much in your short time away, and do well to bringing him here." More soberly, he studied the squire, "Why do you travel with a Bhaalspawn?"

"I – I didn't know." Abashed, Delryn studied the floor, then looked up with defiance, "but if I had, it would not matter. I have seen his courage, his valour; his honour, and his sacrifice. It is matched only by his compassion and patience."

Was… Delryn speaking of… me? He really was clueless as to what I thought of him… I felt suddenly ashamed.

"I see." Firecam's tone was damning; Delryn was crestfallen, then bore the judgement with dignity. His superior smiled slightly, "Well, in that case, you will have to finish what you began. You may journey with him, Squire Delryn, and once Bodhi is vanquished, if you are still alive, you may earn a place in our ranks yet."

Delryn beamed, then straightened, schooling his features.

Gravely, Firecam added, "Sir Ilvastarr was being brought here when the vampiress' followers intercepted them. Bands of them roam the night beyond the city walls, and he has joined them." He added more gently, "He fell with honour, upon the blade of one of his knights, as he wished it."

"Who…" Delryn whispered, shaken to the core.

I had a horrible, sinking suspicion. Firecam did not answer.

"Laurel," I asked, "I would like to see her."

The old paladin shook his head.


	69. Bodhi's Lair, part 2

Bodhi would pay for this. For this, for Imoen, for her part in her brother's crimes, this madness. For destroying a city. My companions knew I wished to be alone; while Delryn grieved, and swore he would avenge his master's ultimate killer, the vampire responsible for all of this, I went over and over in my mind how Ilvastarr could have fallen.

He had not been stable enough to move when we had left; the journey to and Spellhold had taken a few days, and then another few to Athkatla… I supposed it _might_ have been possible… but if they had been ambushed on the road, Bodhi's hold was growing long indeed. Had he been targeted, or was he simply one in a long line to fall victim?

While Delryn prayed to his gods, I paced in my cell; we had each been given rooms, bare, stark affairs with a bed, small niche for worship, and a chest for clothes. Korgan and Minsc paired up; Jaheira was given her own, Edwin his, and me mine. Each of us prepared in our own way; Edwin needed space to reflect upon his magicks, and Jaheira sat with her blade across her lap, cross-legged as she remembered the fallen and thought on the battle to come. Minsc and Korgan drank, as was typical for them. I… paced. I missed Aerie, Nalia and even Iltha; most of all, I missed Imoen. It felt wrong to be preparing without them.

After another step, I left my cell and made my way to Firecam's solar; the other paladins let me by without so much as a glance. They accepted Firecam's assumption of the prelate's mantle, and he had issued orders to let us pass at will.

I found the old knight studying the map. I joined him in silence.

"Here, here and here," Firecam elaborated on his thoughts, noting the three red pins struck in the map, "we'll surround the compound and enter through the sewers."

I nodded, a chill running down my spine; it did not go unnoticed.

"How long have you known we were here?"

"Not long," he sighed, "we should have been more vigilant. We knew Irenicus was taking captives, but not why. We had assumed it was Bodhi; we concluded that your Imoen was still searching for you. Oh yes, we knew she searched, but not why."

"How?" I asked bluntly.

"An agent here, an agent there." He sighed, "It was luck, mostly. We happened to have a fellow in the Friendly Arm Inn when your sister passed through on her way to Beregost after leaving Baldur's Gate; now Sarevok was slain, many wondered where she would go next. As it turns out, she was commenting to your Jaheira about how she would find 'him' no matter what it took. A snatch of conversation; we did not know who 'him' was. Laurel returned to us before our man passed on his word, and your words to her made it plain you were expecting your siblings to come for you."

I sighed slightly. "Delryn told me she was devoted to her god, and no other, in spite of many suitors."

"Aye, she had many admirers." Firecam's words were at once warm and neutral; I realised how fond of her he must have been.

"You knew her well?"

"She saved my life on more than one occasion, and I her. Aye lad, we knew each other."

I stared at the map.

Firecam watched with me, watched me.

"Why did she pray for me?" I asked eventually, a note of wonder in my voice.

"Why did you spare her?"

"I… couldn't." Helplessness arose within me. "It… wasn't right. Rauz – it was a misunderstanding."

"You are a being born of Murder," Firecam pressed, "It is in your very nature; you say it wasn't right?"

I stared at him; anger flared and died. I had no answers. After several moments, I said simply, "We make our own destinies."

"And you wonder why she prayed for you?" He chuckled, "Lad, you had every reason to kill her, but you chose not to. That sort of gesture leaves a mark."

I was silent, then looked at the map. "I'm going to kill Bodhi for this."

"How?"

"The same way I bested Firkraag."

"…You slew the wyrm?" Awe touched him.

"I'm not proud of it," I confessed, then sighed, "He… was growing weary of life; he was selfish, spiteful, and lonely. He did not know how to be any different. I took away any chance he had to change."

Firecam studied me, then shook his head, "Gods forgive me, but I am tempted to make you part of the order."

I laughed, "Me? A Bhaalspawn who will not acknowledge your gods?"

"Aye lad, you."

I shook my head. A moment later, I finished, "It's time."


	70. Bodhi's Lair, part 3

The streets were not as I remembered them; it was one thing to look across from the river and see the wreckage; it was another to actually get through the debris.

We marched out of the citadel in force; we brought the priests and cowls with us. The city guard swarmed around us, and we broke into detachments. The two other suspected nests, as well as Irenicus' old lair; we would strike simultaneously. With the dawn, the vampires had retreated underground; we pressed our advance.

Firecam marched with us; what I would have given for five hundred armoured gnolls right now, two dozen sirines and a hundred xvart-winter wolf riders. Instead, we had a core of six fully mailed knights, and a total of twelve spread evenly across the other forces. Twenty city guard went ahead of us, clearing the way, and two cowls kept pace with Firecam's group. Ever vigilant of ambush, even in the day, Minsc and Korgan kept an eye out, both lusting for battle in near equal measure. Jaheira walked at my side, her arced blade drawn. Delryn walked beside Firecam, and the squire took everything with a seriousness that both pleased and surprised me.

Edwin, as usual, walked as he did everywhere; as if he would rather be reading a book, and haughtily ignoring the rabble around him, cursing as his robe caught on a fallen timber, brick or the like, and pretending that it never happened. The cowls were even worse; their superiority radiated; it matched the most proud knights' arrogance and then some.

I was relieved that not _all_ paladins lived up to their reputation as being holier than thou bigots; some seemed positively humble, though mostly the experienced ones. Firecam was one of these, and my respect for him grew.

We made it to the Promenade for noon; two other teams had already infiltrated the sewers. I was expecting an ambush any second, but none was forthcoming; it only made me warier. I was certain I saw eyes, but I couldn't prove it, and I wasn't prepared to step into a waking dream, not yet.

The shock of seeing the lair was no less great than when Jaheira and I visited the cartographer; that felt like a lifetime ago. Now, like the rest of the city, the Promenade was in ruins. Buildings lay shattered, and many were melted by the intense flames; it seemed to be one of the worst struck districts. Nothing remained except soot, and scarred blackened stones.

The entrance to the lair had caved in, but the guard cleared a path; we marched on. Finally, we found the cellars, and from there, the stairwell. Amazingly, it had not collapsed during Imoen's battle with Irenicus; if it had, it had since been excavated.

"Gods go with us all." Delryn muttered; Firecam gave him a nod of encouragement, and in double file, we headed inside.


	71. Bodhi's Lair, part 4

Two paladins went first; I had not expected this, but Firecam ordered them ahead with a gesture, and I found I couldn't argue. With torches, they lit the way; at the base of the stairs was a clearing. Above the skies were still wretched, so opening the roof up was pointless for now. A priest went down next, and after deciding it was safe, we headed down.

I was expecting traps, but the shock of entering this place again was trap enough; I was trembling. Jaheira caught my elbow, and we exchanged grim looks, but I still quivered. With the city guards backing us, we formed a point of retreat and base camp of sorts.

The stairs would be guarded, held by two paladins and six of the city guard; they would stay there at all times. We expected other vampires to attack us overland when darkness fell, and for others to strike while the rest of us roamed the complex. If they could cut off our line of escape, we'd be mice in a maze. None of us knew how much the place had been altered; Bodhi had had almost two and a half months to prepare.

And prepare she had.

The labyrinth was not what I remembered; it had become a tunnel of twisting, crawling passageways; whether the walls moved or not I could not say, but we soon realised we could not travel as a large group. We had to split up, and reluctantly, we did.

Firecam led his four knights, and each of the cowls led the remaining fourteen city guard, seven a piece. The priests went with them, while I took Jaheira, and Minsc. Delryn, Korgan and Edwin made up their own team as planned. We pressed ever deeper… and then we were in familiar territory.

A chamber filled with jars; just like the one I had spent time in, but this was another chamber. Their eerie greyish, greeny-blue light flickered, a dim glow in an otherwise dark room. We stayed close, but then a macabre horror drew my friends away. In two jars awaiting them, Khalid and Dynaheir floated.

"Wait!" I called out; it was too late. Jaheira had not rushed over as Minsc had, but remained rooted to the spot, frozen in shock. From above, a row of bars snapped down, cutting them off from me. Jaheira spun and called my name; I didn't hear, didn't answer.

In front of me stood a vampire, once handsome in life, now beautiful in undeath. Pale before death claimed her, her skin and once-blonde hair were washed out, her wan blue eyes those of a predator.

My fingers did not even reach for the knife I carried, the only reason for it being there being because Imoen placed it there. Jaheira yelled my name again, this time more urgently; she thrust her arced sword through the bars. It clattered to the floor.

I watched the former paladin; still in the armour she wore in life, she studied me.

"Laurel." I greeted her quietly, "I've missed you."

Again, Jaheira shrieked my name; I ignored her. So did Laurel.

"So we meet once more, my Bhaalspawn." She answered me in a sultry tone, as if toying with me. "Still as weak as ever."

"You've changed," I noted, casting my eye along her, "Even prettier than before."

"You've grown up." Her half smile was chilling, heartbreaking. "Not afraid to look at me any more." She thrust her chest out, then laughed dully, "Why don't we see how much you've grown?"

"I've taken no lovers."

"I have…" She tasted the air, circling to my right; she traced her fang with her tongue, "They are called 'hunger' and 'desire'; what is your desire, god-child? Power? You never wanted that…" She inched closer, "Death?" she whispered, preparing to loom over me.

"You," I answered softly, my eyes sad, "your… soul."

"Trying to save me?" Her smile was ice, her eyes pitiless. "I was weak before, like you. Now I will feast on your blood–"

"How did this happen?" I interrupted before the inevitable happened, "Who made you into this?"

She frowned at me, then allowed slowly, "Ajantis. He had become this, and I found him. We battled… he was stronger, faster, and I slew him; impaled on my sword as his fangs sank into me. I… awoke to this."

"Do you still pray for me?" A foolish question, but one that caught her unaware, "your vows mean nothing to you now?"

"I will prey on you."

"Then come," I held out my arms at my sides, "feed on me."

"You… offer yourself willingly?" She took a step closer; Jaheira was screaming by now. Neither of us heard her. Minsc had long since taken to weeping, his wails resounding throughout the chamber. "So be it… god-child. I will enjoy this feast."

I stepped into the waking dream, and as she threw herself at me, I drew her into my dream; she froze midair, claws outstretched, fangs ready.

Darkness.

Floating.

Here, in this place, memories. The jar. Pain. Drug addled sleep. More memories.

The vampire Laurel hissed at me, "What trick is this?"

I did not reply. I summoned death; murder's voice within me, the realm beyond life. My essence… so small now…

"You are my creature," I told her gently, "I am death taken form; murder in flesh."

She recoiled; her power was pitiful compared to mine, even reduced. The sirines' song played within, and I summoned a vision of Laurel before her fall.

The vampire railed at it, flailing her claws and fangs, attacking it.

"This isn't you," I told the creature, "this is you, this noble soul."

"I hate you," she hissed, "I want your blood!"

In the dream, I cut myself, across the arm, and a single trickle ran to my finger; my will held her fast. I held up the droplet, toying with it, and then let it fall. I released her and she dived for it, maddened by its sight, by the craving. Mine was far beyond mortals'; before it touched her mouth, I changed it to a tear. I poured everything I felt from our conversation all those months ago, all I had heard from others about her; their admiration, their loyalty, their love. She screamed.

In the waking world, my eyes had filled; I released her from the dream, but her scream did not end there. It echoed throughout the chamber, drowning Minsc's, drowning Jaheira's; the creature dove for the sword, Jaheira's sword. Between the madness in her eyes, a flicker of clarity, fear and hate, the knowledge of what she had become; she thrust it into herself as I cried out, "No!"

She crumpled to the ground.

I was at her side, cradling her head in my lap before she stop me. I did not care about the fangs, even as my tears fell on her. The embedded hilt in her chest still had her claws around it. She stared up at me, even as the madness cleared.

I couldn't stop myself. Knowing Imoen needed me, I still reached down inside of me; I opened up a channel to my power, my essence, and I flooded the vampire with it. Tears running off my cheeks and splashing hers, I shoved my power into her. Some dim part of me recalled how Imoen had done the same for Minsc, after the battle for Baldur's Gate; Minsc was dead, she revived him…

"Enough…" Laurel whispered, trying to take my hand and failing. "Let me… go."

"Never," I vowed, my eyes suddenly blazing. There were no hidden reserves, no more depths to me; my anger did not make me more powerful, only fuel what was there already. No amount of screaming, or swearing, vows or tears would strengthen me, but what I had, I gave her. Just before I began to shatter into golden dust, I stopped; I felt myself begin to break and this time, there was no Imoen to stop it. I had to stop myself, for Imoen's sake.

"Arise," I whispered to the creature, "live!"

Her eyes closed.

Slowly, I rose.

Leaving her body where it lay, I pulled free Jaheira's sword, and thrust it through the bars. Just as there had been no mercy for Sendai the huntress, there would be no mercy for Bodhi.


	72. Bodhi's Lair, part 5

"We'll return for them," I vowed, though I could not detect signs of life within. They nodded, grim faced, Minsc's tear stricken. I understood their looks; there would be a reckoning for this. Without a backwards glance, I left Khalid and Dynaheir floating in their jars.

"Try to get free," I looked around, "I'll see if I can find a lever." I doubted I'd find one, but the bars had been activated, somehow it would be possible to lift them. In the gloom, I saw no mechanisms, no hidden cubbyholes; where had Laurel been hiding?

"Sever the head," Jaheira called out to me, offering me back her sword. I stared at her, then curtly shook my head. "She'll rise if you–"

"No!" The force of my voice shocked even me.

"Child, you must–"

"I will _not_."

"You stubborn– listen to me!"

Then I saw it; the glint of metal, polished, black. The lever. While Minsc did his best to lift the bars without much success, Jaheira tried to pry them apart; there was nothing to wedge them with. I placed my hand on the lever; then the trapdoor opened up under me.

Jaheira screamed my name. I plummeted.

Darkness.

Floating.

Was this a dream?

Shadows danced around me. Shifting, inky black; a figure. My eyes focused; was I back in the jar? No… gods, no… not again… Shivering, I realised I was not encased in glass, but I stood on a pedestal of sorts. The same eerie grey-blue-green light lit its base; this was where the trapdoor had carried me, a chute.

I became aware of the huntress watching me, like a cat stalking its prey. She moved like one, her gait long, graceful, creeping. Her face was pale, washed out of all life; her eyes were dark, and her fangs glistened. Once she had been beautiful; now she was an abomination. Longing, greater than any lust, any hunger, gripped her; she craved to feed on me, to sate the addiction that had begun with a godling's blood, the need for power. Around her, outside the dais, was only darkness. A cable linked the pedestal to a hub; other cables ran out to… jars. I knew it without knowing how; instant recognition. I froze.

All this to… trap me?

As she circled me, she felt familiar; it was my own essence I felt, and Imoen's soul. Somehow this… creature possessed it. Everything began to clear, like haze evaporating in the sun; Bodhi's had been torn from her. I could _feel_ the gaping scar it left; she had plugged the hole with… Imoen's. It finally dawned on me what it was about Irenicus; what it was that drew him to us. His name… 'Shattered One'. Soulless. Soul thief.

I did not speak with words, but rather spoke with my mind; the vampiress halted. I could _feel_ the surprise.

 _"Exile."_

Her intake of breath brought no smile to my lips. Whatever speech she had rehearsed faded; the taunts, the contempt. The huntress became the prey.

I _knew_ my essence within her, calling me; I called back; like a song, I listened to its whispers, who it dwelt in a foreign host, a _mortal_. A mortal not bred for it, a mortal not born to it; its blood was dead, and mine was death; this _vessel_ , this puny, feeble shell, could not hope to house the divine power of a god. This elf was nothing more than a parasite trying to feed on what was beyond her.

My will silenced her; I did not need the waking dream for this. In all of her darkness, she had never imagined this, never envisioned it. The powers unlife had brought her fled; she could not turn my own essence against me.

Rooted to the spot, fear gripped her; striped of her element, of her control, her craven heart revealed itself. Weakened though I was, I had power enough for this. I was the son of Murder, she was an insect. The skull did not offer encouragement; the awakened taint in my blood did not try to seize control.

I watched her; I felt no contempt, no hatred, no pity. She strove to become greater than my sister; her fate had already been sealed. Now she knew, now she understood. She who preyed on others in the night, draining them of their blood, ruling their will, was like an ant before a dragon; only now did she realise the error she had made. I had sustained Imoen, giving of myself; from sacrifice that had diluted me, she, the huntress, had grown strong. Her strength was a lie; a lie I had not understood until now.

Her feeding, her thieving, her lust was the true weakness; the addiction she nurtured, she _worshiped_ , led only to ruin. She had sown the seeds of her own destruction; this knowledge, terrible, total, I did nothing to halt. Had she known what love was, would she have chosen another path? She who had sneered love, destroyed the lives of others so readily, now stood alone, afraid and unloved; in her darkness, there was no one to reach down and save her. No one to sustain _her_ , to respect her.

The bond she shared with her brother was one of hate; built of hate, on hate, he did not care for her. All he desired was revenge, the same revenge she had visited on the world. Were they capable of anything else? Soulless, rejected, outcast; they had had each other.

She could only stare.

My thoughts filled her, shattered her. Love had never occurred to her; she did not understand it, could not; confusion paralysed her awareness. Passive, meek, useless… she scorned its touch, but now wondered at it. Why would I readily give everything so I should die that my sister might live? The warmth, the joy, laughter – alien. She recoiled at its touch; grieved, its loss was a hole she did not know she had; an incompleteness she had vainly filled with power. Whatever spark of life remained in her, so polluted, so clouded by hatred, wept bitterly. She fought uselessly, railing inside her mind, inside her depths were her soul once was.

The knowledge of what she had lost was more grievous than anything I could have ever inflicted; her separation from life… she who willingly embraced darkness; embraced death.

It was too late for her to turn back, too late to atone. Forgiveness was not mine to give.

I had vowed no mercy; judgement, final, damning, was the sentence I had passed; I did not even lift my hand. She was already damned, and held off the inevitable. She was damned from the instant she had stolen Imoen's soul; she had sought to dominate what no mere mortal could control. The taint within commanded _her_ , had broken her will and left her a slave. So complete was its rule that she did not even know it. She could no more master Imoen's soul than I could rid myself of my sire's taint. I was Bhaal's spawn, and nothing I could do would change that; not even death would free me of him.

A god might have the power to rid my sire's taint, but I was not a god, only a demi-god. I was weaker than my siblings, and had not heeded the skull's call to war. Its arts I had ignored, and one of those who listened would come for me. But she? She was less than this, less than me.

But if I was the weaker, why did Irenicus want _my_ soul? Did a soul's gender matter? Was this madness even possible? To possess a soul and make it your own? They stole it, but could they retain it? …would they remain who they were if they fused their bodies and our souls? What we were, who we were… without souls, we were empty husks; what did they hope to achieve? Would they become… whole? Or simply merged; a fusion of our selves in their bodies?

What could a vampiress, dead already, hope to gain?

I reached inside of her, and took back what was mine.

Imoen's soul came with it; it knew me, was bound to me; my essence and hers, joined. I left the vampiress with nothing; ripping out of her body, my sister's soul sang vengeance; the elf shrieked in an agony far worse than when her own was torn from her. It laid waste to the vampire; blazing like a sun, it set about burning the darkness and with it, the one who tied herself so tightly to it. The divine essence, the ecstasy, this ambrosia, so forcefully taken, left a hole wider than if I had plunged a stake into her blackened heart.

The blood of a godling is not forgiving; our birthright was Murder, and in taking Murder, making it part of her, she in turn was murdered; its loss snuffed out her unlife; whatever vestiges, remnants in this grey, twilight existence, this mockery, fell under the backlash. Our blood has a will of its own; vengefully, it struck. I could do nothing.

Like us when we fell, she broke apart; her ash was black, nothing like the glimmering gold we become. Her agony was revealed in her gaze; like one gazing at the sun, she reached and was denied; in darkness she died, as she had lived.

I gasped as I felt my strength return; the taint, the crimson film, the red mist, washed through me; I felt sickened, empowered. With it, my sire's power, the portion allocated me. I felt my sister's soul, and gently, I steered it towards her; it understood, sang, and flew. Part of her remained with me, in me.

I had heard it said that twins share a bond; of pain, of love. What I shared with Imoen was deeper.


	73. Restored, part 1

Restored

I looked down at the dust, the powdered husk that was all the remained of Bodhi. She would never, could never, rise again. Closing my eyes, I felt suddenly dizzy. My hand raised… a memory, a… memory of a memory. Darkness… plummeting… the roar in my head, my sire's taint, my essence… surrounded by it. I had plunged into a… jar.

Bodhi circled me. I was not awake, nor sleeping; a haze between awareness and dreams. As I floated, she shattered the glass, the fluids draining out, channelled into tubes, and she leaned in close. "A last gift," she breathed with a smile, "from my brother."

Her fangs pierced my flesh.

"A spell… broken only by his death." Gloating, laughter; as if it were delicious. "Your blood… in him."

My eyes snapped open; my fingers touched the wound. Too stunned to breathe, I stared in horror at the blood. How long? My clothes were dry… something had awoken. Something inside of me. I had wrested control of the vampiress' will, slain her… her corpse was evidence of that. I had awoken; her surprise; her awe, her fear… she had been unable to turn me; I was alive… her curse of unlife could not hold me.

I was… alive…

Wasn't I?


	74. Restored, part 2

Awareness. A consciousness not my own. Empty, cold. Deadened. Irenicus.

Was this a dream? I looked through another's eyes; glimpsed thoughts not of my making. A city, hidden high within treetops burned.

An elf, caged, stared as her beloved city stood helpless. Helpless just as he had been helpless. There was no smile, no victory; not even the embers of revenge burned. All that was left was to end this; to end it how it started. There was little of him left; what was there was fading. Before all traces were gone, he would take his once-home with him; never again would this happen. No righteous indignation; only the last memories of feeling; the memory of a memory. A memory of hate.

A lover, spurned, rejected.

Around him had assembled a dark host, a black dragon at its head. An army of drow. He stood on the brink, the precipice; he still had a choice. Aware of the choice, he looked towards his home, and his incantations began.

The wards trembled. Wards he had helped put into place. For centuries, they had protected the old city; now they began to unravel. Others had added to them, but he had spent a lifetime in study; he, once their greatest mage.

It was no longer about power.

Once it had been. Once it had been the power to defend his people; around them their foes had grown strong, and their allies had fallen one by one. His ascension should have secured his peoples' future for all time, but he had been declared outcast, exile. Their gods, once his, stripped him of his might, but his will had remained; it had been honed. Over a human's lifetime, he had refined, relearned and mastered anew the greatest magicks of his former people.

While they retreated, isolating themselves in fear, their foes had grown strong. It had all been as he had predicted. Everything had unfolded as he had said. Now the host prepared for its final assault; his peoples' folly had spelt their own destruction, and their gods could do nothing.

It had taken the greatest of their mages to stop him, to bring him and his sister before _her_ , his queen, his lover. Even she had turned on him. It should have been his right to rule alongside her, to give rise to their people. The Bhaalspawn would roam the land and bring utter ruin to it. It had already begun. No mortal could hope to defeat the scions of a dead god; they had not listened.

Only vague recollections, fragments surfaced; not even this, the sight of his home, the city he had once sworn to protect at any cost, could rouse his anger. Shards were all that remained; as he watched, even those faded.

The last words on his lips died. The first of the wards unravelled; drow warriors ran forward. The screams would start; screams that meant nothing. The heart-tree would burn, and with it the souls it had stolen; his soul. Without pity, without remorse, he allowed the host entry.


	75. Restored, part 3

My sight returned to my own eyes; I felt strange, more attuned with myself. I also felt a loss. A slow, but constant draining… Bodhi's curse. My senses had sharpened; I was aware of the pulse inside, the ebbing, coursing power. My heart? I extended my hand; I had always been pale, at least according to Imoen, but… I shook my head. The gloom was playing tricks on me. I glanced around; I needed a way out. I could not climb the chute even if I found the access point; had there been one chute, or simply had I fallen down one of several? I must have been watched as I entered; how would Bodhi know which tunnel I would take, or even how to separate me?

Distantly, the sounds of battle reached my ear; I glanced around the chamber, and discovered further chutes. I must have been at the heart of these vaults. Was there a way to reach the surface quickly?

There was no lever to access a lift; why would the vampiress expose herself so? A hatch led to the sewers; after a quick scout around, I doubled back, and headed towards the sounds of battle. The paladins could scour this place. I had what I came for, and time was running out for me.


	76. Restored, part 4

I found them. Minsc. Jaheira. I wish I had not.

They lay there, slumped. I had never thought to see her weep; Minsc grieved also.

The chute had not taken me as far as I had thought; merely the room above. Through a sealed door, a stairwell, and a concealed entrance, I entered the chamber on their side.

Twin piles of dust lay at their feet; two jars shattered.

Jaheira lifted reddened eyes towards me; I glanced at her neck, relieved to see there were no bite marks. In her single look, I understood everything.

"I know where he is."

She nodded, hurt and hate-filled. "Come Minsc," she uttered devoid of feeling, "we have a debt to repay."

"Minsc will kill the masked mage for this."

She laid her hand on his shoulder, and his furious, helpless tears shed anew.

I turned aside, unable to bear it any more. I now knew why I had detected no signs of life; there had been none to detect. Bodhi had not just recruited from the thieves' ranks.

"Gather the dust." I distantly heard myself command, "They deserve better than this."

Behind me, I felt Jaheira nod, unsteadily rise, and steel herself. Then she gasped; she had seen my neck.

"Bodhi has fallen." Neither moved; I stooped, scooping the dust in a belt purse. "The leech spell… I am its victim."


	77. Restored, part 5

Shaken did not even begin to describe them; even Edwin was aghast. I barely heard it; the consoling, concerned half whispered looks; Firecam had lost several, but the three groups had ultimately succeeded. I did not speak of how I defeated Bodhi; with her fall, the vampires lost cohesion, and with their leader's loss, their resistance was thwarted. All were put to the sword, as were those infected – by their own hand. No one was prepared to risk another outbreak.

I did not care to hear the reports of how the other groups had fared. My collar raised, I greeted Firecam and bid him farewell without the need for speeches; the old warrior respected that, but I knew his eyes had strayed to the slightly revealed bite, to the sparkle of crimson. I said nothing, but he knew.

"Irencius falls," I said by way of parting; I did not expect to see him again, or his like. I glanced towards Delryn, and the knight understood.

"Gods go with you," Firecam clasped my forearm, "and remember yourself." He thumped his chest; I nodded, though my heart was not in it. "Squire Delryn, attend me."

Delryn froze, "My – my lord?"

"It is time we were leaving."

Delryn stared at me in confusion, then hurt. I offered nothing. From my peripheral vision, I noted Jaheira understood; so did the others. Her eyes had a pained, determined expression; a reckless abandon that only the grimmest of losses could bring. It no longer mattered to her if she lived or died as long as Irenicus did first. Minsc was the same.

Korgan tested his axe, and nodded gruffly. Edwin's trademark sneer was absent; he had seen the rooms where Imoen had suffered. The grey dwarves, the Duergar, had left the tools of their trade for Irenicus; the trio had found their forge. It was no longer just about the chase; it was personal. Delryn had yet to comprehend the true horrors of what had occurred here; the dwarf and the wizard both knew.

More gently, Firecam regarded Delryn, but his tone was one of undeniable authority, "Your duties are fulfilled."

As he marched out, I met the paladin's gaze; he would explain to Delryn later. There was something else too; if I ever needed aid, the promise was there.

I left without a backwards glance.


	78. Restored, part 6

Imoen awaited us. Leaning against Firkraag-that-was, she had used his great crimson-scaled leg as both a seat and a climbing frame, depending on her mood. Aerie was with her, ever concerned, and she gasped when she saw me. Throwing dignity to the wind, she rushed over, halted unsteadily, then threw her arms around me, hugging tightly, then kissed my cheek, and embraced the dwarf.

"Thank you," she had whispered. 'Thank you for keeping him alive' was what she meant. To my relief and disappointment, I didn't see Nalia or Iltha.

Imoen took one look at Jaheira, and quietly, she walked over and squeezed the half-elf's hand. No tears touched Jaheira's eyes this time, but she appreciated the understanding; Imoen patted Minsc's hand, and through wet eyes, a fierce light shone. She glanced at Edwin; only grimness held his gaze.

"Irenicus dies." The mage said flatly.

"You saw, huh?"

He didn't reply; Imoen turned to me. "I, er, kinda want her back, little brother."

I frowned at her.

"My soul?"

She leaned over and kissed me, then whispered, "She's in you. Can't you feel her?"

"Her?" I frowned; hadn't I sent Imoen's soul back to her? …How could I carry two souls? But the leech spell…

"She's mine, isn't she?"

I wasn't sure what to say to that, but reached inside, and gently nudged my essence towards Imoen; I felt a slight tug, then a joyous, soundless cry, and I _felt_ something leap from me into her. Imoen patted her chest and sighed. Then her eyes bulged. "Gods… you… why didn't you tell me?" She bit her lip, ignoring Aerie's startled glance, "You know it too, don't you brother? He's taken something from you… your…"

"Your soul is yours now, Immy."

"But yours leeches away…" She sighed. Before I could stop her, I felt something pass into me. "There."

I gasped; power flowed through me, coursing to the depths of my inmost being, to the wells. They began to fill.

"No! You–"

"It's yours, brother. You sustained me–"

"Imoen–!"

She smiled sadly, "You should have closed your eyes; you taught me too well."

"But–"

"You need it now, more than me." Her eyes were unreadable, "I love you."

I repeated those three small words; those words that changed everything. For a time, there were just the two of us; a shared moment and the realisation we had never truly been apart. "You know Edwin's here," I mentioned lightly.

Her smile brightened, "I know," She hesitated, "We've been chatting."

I arched my eyebrow; when had she the time…? At the keep? I suddenly felt a chill; I didn't like where this was going.

"Did you know eh got me a pink bow?"

"For your hair?"

"Of course for my hair – oh, not _that_ sort of bow!" She laughed, then leaned in close, "He doesn't know it yet, but Jaheira's agreed to officiate."

"Uh… shouldn't this wait until after–"

The look she gave me was one as if I was denser than a troll brained by rocks. Then she added with a small giggle, "You're going to have a brother."

"One who won't try to kill me?" I asked dryly, then glanced at Edwin with sudden pity; his suspicious return made me feel a sudden urge of pity. "Run now," I warned him, "while you still – ow!"

The faded flicker of amusement touched Jaheira's eyes, but it was only its ghost.

"That's cheating," Imoen scolded.

"It's only fair." I countered.

She rolled her eyes, deliberately sauntered over to him, twisted, stuck her tongue out at me, then turned and kissed him in full view of everyone. There was nothing chaste about it. A glimpse from my peripheral vision suggested Korgan and Aerie were involved in the same. I shook my head; then mounted Firkraag-that-was as the wyrm's head lowered for me at my thought.

Aerie looked up, "W-we are returning to the keep first, aren't we?"

I acknowledged the state of my companions, considered my own, and gave a brief, curt nod.


	79. Restored, part 7

"We finish this together."

Imoen's hand held mine; nothing more was needed.

There had been no argument, no debate, no discussion. She refused to be left behind a second time, and I refused a repeat of the Battle of Baldur's Gate; I would not be absent when she needed me most. So it was decided. Edwin was equally as stubborn; he wasn't prepared to lose his 'pink wizard' again.

Jaheira and Minsc were with us to the end; Korgan's 'conscience' had finally awoken, or perhaps he still desired the wizard's treasures – either way, he was firm, which left the others.

Nalia had a keep to manage, and her people; Iltha was not prepared for what we faced. Were we? Had Imoen and I been her age when this had all been thrust on us? It seemed so long ago. Perhaps we had been older; it did not matter. We had the blood of the divine; she did not. Besides that, Nalia and Gerran would never have allowed her to accompany us.

That left only Aerie…

It had taken us less than a day to return to the keep. The winds had been favourable, and thermal currents had carried the red wyrm faster than I had thought possible. It was almost effortless to veil him from sight now; we touched down gently, and we were back inside before the weather turned on us. Firkraag-that-was followed Imoen's direction to an old quarry she had scouted in our absence; from inside a cave-shaft, the dragon had since been tunnelling and uncovered an old, dried out riverbed.

Typically, it led near the keep; from there, the wyrm worked tirelessly to excavate a route under the old cellars. It seemed appropriate, that as the keep's new guardian, he should make his home there. He still had a way to go, but it gave him something to do. As long as he didn't bury himself alive, it mattered not to me; Nalia obviously felt easier about it. I don't quite know how the quad had cooked this plan up, but I suspect Iltha and Aerie had a hand in the idea too. All of it had the hallmarks of a mad Imoen scheme.

We had retired for the evening; the others were exhausted, but I doubt any of them would sleep. Minsc and Jaheira had reasons separate from the other four. I could have sought out Iltha, Gerran and Nalia but they had been dining in private with Nalia's aunt.

Inside my room, I sat; in my visions, I paced. The waking dream. The rolling black cloud, the fog, the… haze shifted, taking me to the place of Bodhi's last rest; the place of my torment, the cage. I searched, unsure of what I was drawn by. The paladins had cleared the rooms, but there were still many more to go.

I walked among the jars; they were no longer able to hurt me. As I walked, I thought of my captor, Irenicus. The power that had been taken from him had refined his will, strengthened it. My own decline in the jar had strengthened my will. My body had grown weak, kept alive on fluids and by magick, but my focus had sharpened far more than anything I could have done alone. Did I owe him a debt? He who tried to destroy me had steeled me, prepared me. Though my soul was draining out, I was stronger than ever. My essence restored, I was ready for the fight ahead, for the battle that awaited beyond Irenicus.

There were still the rest of my siblings, the slaves of Murder.

I looked around the ruins, and saw my own gaze reflected back. I felt another's; saw it form beside mine. She smiled.

Bodhi? I recoiled in shock, shaken from the dream; I looked again, more intensely. No, Bodhi was gone, dead.

…Laurel?

Aerie's words broke the dream. In her excitement, she burst in, babbling. Clutching a sheet around her, she danced and spun around, almost singing. Her hair wild and free, it took me a moment to adjust. Once it would not have bothered me; now, living amongst 'civilisation', modesty reared its ugly head, a slow flush touching my cheeks. I nodded slightly to the door.

"Oh." Then she laughed in delight, closed it with the pad of her foot, and threw her arms around me. Cross-legged, I felt her warm, the press of her flesh, and the touch of her lips against my hair, brow and face. She gripped my cheeks and kissed my lips.

"Aerie…?" Was she drunk?

"My wings!" She laughed, twisting and letting the sheet fall far to low. I blinked; then stared. Two stubs…

"They're growing back!" She wriggled, and the sheet fell away entirely; I couldn't help but notice the scars on the backs of her thighs. "But the temples said…" She sighed in sadness and delight, "I can't believe they're really…"

"I told you to believe in me." I couldn't help but smile; she returned it, twisting back, and then sensing my discomfort at having her naked on my lap, gathered the sheet to her breasts. "You have your freedom now; you will never be chained to the ground again."

In awed wonder, she touched my cheek, "Who… who are you?"

My smile was sad, tight, "A dead man walking."

"I… I don't know how to… ever… Thank you." Tears ran freely, and she kissed me fiercely, then pulled back. "I understand why Imoen loves you so."

I frowned.

"You truly love her." She brushed my cheek again, then squeezed me so hard I was gasping in her hug. "I – any, anything you want of me…"

"Take your life back." Visions of Laurel filled me; I could not sacrifice her to my cause as well.

"I – I should stay."

"This isn't your fight," My words were firm, final. "What of Korgan?"

She hesitated, then abashed, blushed slightly. "He – he'll tire of me, and…"

I fixed her a sceptical look; one I'd learnt from Jaheira. The elf flushed crimson. I held up a cautionary finger, then sighed, "I want you to watch over Nalia and the keep. If – anything should happen…" I took a deep breath, "Imoen and I control the wyrm. If we should fall…" I closed my eyes.

"I promise."

I touched her forehead with my palm. A drop was all I gave her, but it was enough to bind her to me, to the dragon. My essence. Her eyes widened.

"You…"

"Remember us." I realised this was goodbye; even if we were victorious, nothing would ever be the same. I knew then I could not return. It would only draw my siblings here… they would raze all we had achieved, all Nalia had built. Aerie knew it too.

"I – I'll never forget you. Everyone will know what you did, I swear it by all the gods."

"I'll do my best to bring Korgan back."

She nodded, biting her lip again.

"Will you do something for me?"

"Anything!"

"Never whine again." I smiled to take any sting from my words; she laughed and hugged me on impulse. I touched her cheek gently, watching her eyes. "Farewell, Aerie."

She whispered my name; it stopped me short. I waited.

"I… I'll pray to you."

"I'm not a god yet," I quipped, then closed my eyes; I think had I asked it of her, she'd have borne my children. There was more to say, and I lacked the words; finally, she simply kissed me, gently, chaste, full on the lips. She rose, hugged my head to her, her fingers entwined in my hair and her lips caressed the top of my head.

I could have sworn I heard her whisper "You will be."

Then she turned and left, gracefully gathering the sheet around her like a gown.

I wrinkled my nose; was that… dwarf I smelt on her?


	80. Restored, part 8

"Aerie wants you back in one piece, dwarf," I muttered to him; he growled something unrepeatable about women. I was inclined to agree. After a moment, I felt a muted buzz, and sighed; "She'll never stop nagging me if you die."

Korgan fixed me a strange look, and I tapped my temple. The light of understanding passed.

"Priestesses."

He grunted.

While he mounted Firkraag-that-was, I turned to Nalia; Iltha was her ever-present shadow, standing slightly behind and to her side. I embraced the older of the two; Nalia hugged me with surprising fierceness, then sniffed and straightened her dress. Whatever words she prepared were lost to the howl of the wind; her eyes thinned in annoyance at it, and leaning in, she kissed my cheek. "You avenged my father, took captive the beast that slew him as guardian of my home."

The wind died.

"You brought me my cousin and uncle; she's the little sister I never had." A faint blush touched her cheeks, "You saved me from the affections of one boisterous squire soon-to-be-knight, and now you leave me with a keep full of people, without the wyrm and without a husband." She sighed, "Should I thank you or curse you?" The smile killed any reply I might have given; another fierce squeeze followed, and a gentle kiss, "Come back alive."

"I–" It stuck in my throat; I closed my eyes. "I won't be returning."

"When this is all over," she promised me, "you will." She jabbed my chest, far too much like Imoen for comfort; they must have been trading childhood stories and secrets. That spot was too exact for it to be anything else. "Aerie told me about her wings. You can count on my prayers too." Her smile was full, "you are your father's son."

Horror painted me openly.

"How many more hearts will you murder?"

What could I say to _that_?

Wryly, her lips flickered, and I wondered how much 'telling' Aerie had done with words; probably very little if I was reading her right. Dread suspicion was confirmed by a veiled smile from Imoen already mounted on the dragon. I did not want to imagine Aerie without – wait, did they bathe together, as they had in the townhouse? It would explain so much… I began to sympathise with Korgan, and to a lesser degree, Edwin's softening views.

"Keep the fire warm," I smiled back, knowing I would not return despite her banter; I wanted to believe, wanted to dream…

"You'll have an avatar," She winked knowingly, as if she could read my thoughts, "after you ascend." She had me there.

I turned to Iltha; unlike Nalia, she lowered her eyes. Gently, I held out my arms; she came to me willingly, and her kiss brushed my cheek more lightly than the now breeze. There was so much she wanted to say, and there wasn't a need; I understood and she knew I did. I kissed her forehead, and added gently, "Look after Nalia. She needs you."

She nodded solemnly; I caught Gerran's eye and he nodded; he understood why I could not be with her, with any of them. I caught and squeezed Iltha's hand; she squeezed back. I did not say farewell as I turned and mounted the wyrm.

As we took to the skies, I closed my eyes; I thought of Laurel, of the sirines, the xvarts, the gnolls, the winter wolves… of Candlekeep. All my life had been building up to what lay beyond this point; Irenicus was already dead. He knew it and so did I.

Imoen reached across and squeezed my shoulder. She knew it too… didn't she?


	81. Restored, part 9

"So god-child, you have come."

"All this… just so you could die?"

Irenicus did not reply; with the last linger echoes fading from my mind, he and I shared a single thought: he was waiting for us… for me.


	82. An Accounting, An Accord, part 1

An Accounting, An Accord

The sun's gaze burnt; I felt it searing, but I withdrew from its touch, deep into the recesses of my mind; deeper still into the wells. The taint, a filthy film, ever present, wrapped me in sticky ichor, but even this I pushed past. I centred myself in the core of my being, drawing from my roots. The pain was nothing compared to what I had felt in the jar; Imoen's pain, my helpless frustration… my power blocked out the sun's rays.

Whatever my companions thought was lost to the wind.

Time was pressing.


	83. An Accounting, An Accord, part 2

We flew south, and west, veering away from the sea; we began to encounter the first trees of the great forests. I did not bother to hide our approach; there were too many means of detecting us, and Irenicus knew we were coming. I could sense him distantly, as he could surely sense me. My ever draining soul had formed a bridge between us; through that connection, I could glimpse at the edges of his thoughts. Grim determination was all that remained. Power filled his mind, power was all he had left.

I tried to shield my own thoughts; even knowing he did not care did not alter this. His siphoning left me vulnerable, and I did not know what other magicks he could employ. If he could possess me with a thought, then he could possess the wyrm, topple us and end it all. It was not a pleasant prospect; Imoen's hand found my shoulder again. Was I tensing more than usual, or could she hear my thoughts?

Two days passed, then three. Four. Five. We flew against the wind, and with each passing hour, I weakened. Every wing-beat drew us closer, and Imoen sustained me as I had her. My essence remained mine, full, powerful, and my senses remained unnaturally sharp. I felt a deep longing, a hunger within; the taint did not quench it, but fuelled it. It was not a vampire's thirst for blood; it was a thirst for… murder. Murder born of blood; devouring a victim's life-essence would sate the hunger, sate the craving; that was the lie. I had glimpsed Bodhi's spiral into madness; if I indulged it even once, it would feed the addiction and overwhelm me; better to slowly starve. As long as I had my own essence, I could keep the terrible thirst at bay. Bodhi had no such luxury, wilfully delighting in the thrill it brought; the satisfaction. Her lust enslaved her; I would never fall victim to my sire's taint.

Imoen reached over and kissed my cheek; her lips were chill from the wind, but they were warm to my flesh. She did not need to speak; I felt her love for me. I smiled tightly at her. She gripped my hand and did not let go.

At nights we slept huddled against one another; we did not land. Ropes secured us, and even though low-hanging cloud and mist drenched us; rain fell on us, and the sun's accused glare burned us – me, we endured the misery. Food was rations shared out; I declined all of it. I no longer felt the need for solid intake; only the hunger.

My companions should have feared me, should have loathed me. Was I not a being of darkness, a creature of the night; predator made flesh, terror given form? Bodhi's kiss… her brother's curse; a delicious irony, a 'gift'; her jest at his expense. To shape me in her likeness.

Beneath that, I was Bhaalspawn; they had accepted that, and trusted me. Wariness of my… condition had met sympathy, and now they no longer regarded me as a threat. I longed and longed with thirst; it ached, the pangs tearing my innards apart. I resisted. Each time I resisted, it hurt more, but through the pain, it began to get easier. A little at a time, a little more. Not even the curse of undeath, the gradual loss of my soul, could overcome my origins. The time in the jar had sharpened my will, and I used every ounce of it to guard myself, steel myself. I was as grim as my companions, as focused as my captor; nothing would keep me from reaching him.

On the sixth day, we burst through the broken wards; Edwin felt them the same time as Imoen, I, and Jaheira did; Minsc and Korgan felt them barely a breath later. Ancient magick… loosened, unravelled.

And then it came at us. The black. Wyrm faced wyrm; Irenicus' pet against mine. It watched us, lazily circling, waiting. Irenicus was waiting for me below; he no longer cared about Imoen, or even me. He waited at the heart-tree; I was bound to him, and he wanted the last of my soul; he wanted me present to witness his ascension… his demise? I could no longer tell. Did he want anything at all? Memories not my own bubbled up, burst, shattered. I shuddered; he had begun to prepare a ritual, a terrible mockery of the one used to guard the city. It would siphon the life of the tree, turning it in on itself.

He had caged his former queen, his former love; she watched, helpless as he now passed and prepared judgement.


	84. An Accounting, An Accord, part 3

We swooped in low; the city was in ruins. Fires ran amok; elves died, cut down in their homes, their screams as they were dragged away to a fate worse than death. I did not need to glance at Minsc and Korgan; the two jumped down as soon as we were low enough, and they engaged the drow.

While Minsc's sword had cleaved head from body, and Korgan's axe bit deep, Jaheira nimbly dropped down; eyes blazing, her arced blade sang. Like a woman possessed, she led the charge, the two berserkers behind her. Imoen looked at me, smiled, and rolled off; she landed beside the half elf, and Edwin beside her. Soon their magic crackled the air around them, and they cleared a path. The drow were not expecting the rush, the fury; Minsc fought with all the rage of a maddened bull, and Korgan lost himself in the love of battle. With a Bhaalspawn aiding them, the carnage grew. Corpses mounted; blows glanced off them, magic shattered against Edwin's shields, and fire answered the drow in return. It burnt holes in the trees beneath them, and they fell screaming, toppling to their deaths.

Half blind in the daylight, even the grim and cloudy murk, the drow were outside their natural element; my companions pressed their advantage. As a tightly knit group, forged in the heat of battle, they operated as one. I finally saw how effective my sister truly was; she led by example, inspiring those around her and terrorising those against her.

Firkraag-that-was swerved and it was my turn to drop; I landed lightly, steadying myself before I lost my balance and plummeted; the red beat powerfully to engage the smaller black. It was not an equal battle; mine was weary from flight, but had bested others larger than himself in his youth. The black bore recent wounds, and was more agile; whatever magicks they possessed would determine the contest as much as fangs and claws.

I had not the time to watch. I slid out of sight, veiling myself; the others were the bait, the distraction… the city's salvation. I was the assassin, the Bhaalspawn.

I reached into the red wyrm's mind, and whatever little remained of Firkraag, I released. Dazed, he awoke, as if from a great slumber; his mind was fractured, shattered, but my essence held him together. Just as I had with Laurel, I breathed life into him.

 _"Go,"_ I commanded, filling him with my power, _"Live again."_

 _"Godling?"_ The wyrm breathed in confused awe.

 _"'Ware the Black! Redeem yourself! Destroy it."_

The acrid, acidic blast from the black's mouth rose a fury in the red; Firkraag-restored bellowed a challenge. I left him to it.

Against all good sense and reason, I had given him a second chance.

I readied myself to face my captor; before me stood the great heart-tree, what the elves named 'the tree of life'. The name I had plucked from Bodhi's thoughts, from Irenicus'; a rough translation, but an apt one. The elves of this city all but worshipped it; it was their spiritual centre, their… cultural heart. Their identity. The physical link to their gods. Their soul.

Imoen did what she did best: cause a ruckus. The surviving elves began to rally around her, and the tide of the battle began to turn; screaming war-cries, Minsc charged blindly on; Korgan was three steps behind him, but ran as fast as his stubby legs could carry him. He too roared and laughed; it shook both the elves and the drow so much that their aeons-long hatred hesitated for the briefest breath; then they were at it again.

Now my band were beginning to be taken seriously, and the more elite warriors engaged them; backed by mages and their foul magicks, Edwin and Imoen did their best to outdo each other, and in so doing, complemented one another. As a team they fought; as a duo they were unstoppable. Jaheira's blade sang a song so deadly, I began to wonder if she herself was Bhaalspawn; the mad, disorganised rampage began to break. The drow began to rout.

It would not be a total rout; they would regroup, and then there would be hell to pay. This was not even the full bulk of their force, but only a wave; a spearhead. It did not matter.

It had given the defenders hope.

High above, the two dragons raged; fire met acid, magick met magick; claw and fang met scale. Chunks of armoured flesh were torn out, and feral roaring filled the air.

In the confusion, I slipped away unseen to meet my fate.


	85. An Accounting, An Accord, part 4

"What have you done?!" The elven queen screamed, "Blasphemer!"

The words were not directed at Irenicus; they were aimed at me.

"What will end this." My tone was as cold as Irenicus' heart; I felt the tree's power course through my fangs, up into me.

"No!" Irenicus gasped as his ritual was disrupted; the perverse, inverse flow he was channelling was abruptly turned away. Siphoning the life energies, I opened up the bridge between us, our connection thrown open to the tree of life.

The wards he had been preparing crumbled, his will dissolving. "The power… the power is gone…"

Still channelling the flow, I acted as a conduit, filling myself, filling _him_. My essence pulsed, attuning to it; the taint was drowned under the roar. With this much power, I could do _anything_ ; I could destroy all my siblings – I ignored it; persistently, I called to the tree, finding its consciousness. There was a distant awareness; a sentience that spanned the length of ages, that reached back to the tree's birth. It did not have a mortal's understanding, but it _lived_. It shuddered, knowing it was captive, knowing it was… dying. I lost myself within it; searching, calling. It would surrender the object of my search, or I would drain it all, and not even the gods themselves could stop me. I had latched on, becoming part of the tree; I felt the elven gods through it. I sensed their shock, their anger. Indignation, outrage; my ultimatum, my petition.

 _"Return it,"_ I faced them; it was a waking dream, of a sort; I saw their faces, ethereal, solid; arrayed around me, ringing me. I did not threaten to destroy the tree, or to ascend; they could feel the taint. They did not recoil from it, but withstood it; it would infect the tree after I had drained it of all power. I would rise to their rank; then I would scourge the realms of my siblings and take my sire's throne. They could not sever me from the tree without destroying it, without losing their connection to their mortal children.

 _"The drow overrun the city."_

 _"Our judgement cannot be overturned."_ I did not know who spoke; it might have been all of them, it might have been one. It was not the tree, unless the tree had taken form; male and female both, the voice was plural, unyielding.

 _"Why?"_ Asked another, more gently.

 _"The Betrayer will not be allowed to ascend; there will be no second chance."_ A younger sounding voice, determined. An image of a face flashed through my mind; a bow, a wolf.

 _"You cannot hold us ransom, Bhaal-child."_ Harsh; a woman and a man; more faces flashed. Proud, strong.

I did not speak; I only waited.

 _"The city will not fall."_ Anger; not directed at me. I felt a flicker of dissent amongst their ranks; disagreement over how to prevent this disaster.

 _"It has already gone too far!"_

 _"Why haven't the guardian spirits awoken?"_ Had I been forgotten?

 _"He tortured you."_ A female, the same one, quiet, still gentle; I felt a hand reach out, touch me. _"He tortured your sister."_

I readied myself, readied death's embrace; I reached for Imoen, preparing to augment her power, fill her with my own essence. I would not survive the tree's death; I had bound myself too tightly to it. The elven gods could not – could _not_ – sever me from it. She would live on; more powerful than any of our siblings.

I felt a pang of regret; Firkraag would fall with me, his mind too ruined without my essence to restore him fully.

Faint surprise; the female watched me closely, following my thoughts, _"You freed the wyrm…"_ Imoen's mind flashed in front of me, _"You love her?"_

 _"I am not my father."_

Silence.

 _"So be it, god child."_


	86. An Accounting, An Accord, part 5

"Joneleth?"

"Irenicus is dead." I said simply, awaking to the world. I released my hold; inverting the flow. The tree's restoring energies coursed back into it; I felt my soul float within the current, then anchor itself within me. I gasped; I was… myself again, though something had changed.

"He… he is restored?"

"Yes… Ellesime."

The elf once known as 'Irenicus' straightened, his pale blue eyes hurt, hurting. Pushing himself up slowly, he looked first at her, then me, then back again; finally, his unblinking gaze rested on me, and for a moment, I expected him to utter his death magicks; instead, he bowed.

I inclined my head.

Tears filled Ellesime's eyes as her former love halting knelt before the tree, staring at it in awe and wonder. My hand reached out and gripped his shoulder; he looked up at me. The gestures had come at a cost; it had been painstakingly slow for both of us.

Quietly, I voiced knowledge that had been imprinted upon me without my knowing, "Not all of your gods wished this." As if reflecting on a distant memory, I recalled the female's phantom touch across my face, within my mind; what was it Nalia had said? Murderer of hearts? I almost laughed; abrupt, foolish joy filled me. It was over. This was… over.

"Some felt it was punishment enough," the words sounded strange to my ears; was I speaking… elvish? "Exile was enough; to strip your soul away… would only lead to ruin."

"You… you did this."

I did not acknowledge it.

The elf queen stared at me, trembling.

"Tell me." His voice faltered, but it still commanded respect, demanded obedience; he hesitated, "please."

"I only did… I righted what should never have been done."

His hand gripped mine, my own still on his shoulder. "Why?"

"They asked the same." I allowed softly, staring at the tree. "The tree felt as I did." Where had _that_ come from? "It never wished to destroy the life of one of its children, its precious son."

Tears seeped from the broken elf; his head bowed, "After all I did…"

I squeezed, "I showed them what it was like."

His head snapped up at me sharply.

"You came here to die."

"Oh Joneleth…" Ellesime broke down at my words, finally approaching the kneeling man, and laying her hand on his other shoulder; she looked at me, afraid, hopefully, daring to hope…

"Your gods have rescinded their punishment; judgement falls to you. For myself…" I looked at the burning city behind me, "He is accountable, but you helped shape him the monster he became. Consider that," I found words not of my own making spill from my lips again, "Perhaps this time we shall get it right. The desire to protect what we hold can easily become consumed by the drive for power." My words became mine as I added, "I know the corruption better than most."

She nodded slowly, "Perhaps… perhaps you are right."

Her one-time subject would not lift his head to face her.

"Wel–" she hesitated, then began again more firmly, "Welcome home, Joneleth. You will make amends by… dedicating the rest of your life to the… city you once loved. The people… you sacrificed everything for, even your queen. You… were right." Her eyes closed, "We… are weak. This… never should have happened. We are as much at fault as you are."

"My… queen…"

"Forgiveness will not come easily, but we will not forget all you have done, all you had been. What you might be again."

Gently I shook my head; I did not need to voice my thought, she read it easily enough: enough preaching. Incredibly, she stilled her tongue. Perhaps they were both learning? The road to recovery would be a long and painful, but ultimately, a fulfilling one. Would I ever be able to forgive them? Would Imoen? Jaheira? Minsc? All those who had lost loved ones because of him?

Not everyone would agree with my decision.

I thought of Athkatla. I thought of the elves of this city. I thought of the drow. No, very few would understand. 'Irenicus' had earned his punishment a thousandfold; he deserved death. Instead, I had delivered him to another fate.

Other than myself, only Imoen knew what it was like to have her soul torn from her.

I noticed the elven queen studying me; I spoke gently, but firmly, without use of rank or ceremony, "There are others who suffer. Athkatla has been torn apart by Bodhi's wars. The Order of the Radiant Hart has lost many," I tried not to think of Laurel, "and have not purged all her spawn." I read the frown, the hesitation in her eyes. "The time has come to… reconsider your stance. You lack allies; why? Because you stand alone. Send aid, help them restore their city, and atone for what your choices have caused."

Indignation flared within her; the elf at her feet gripped her arm, and softly, he agreed, "He… is right, my queen." Agonised and tormented though his gaze was, it also contained something he had long forgotten; hope. In it, I saw the echoes of a faded, lost love; an admiration matched only by affection.

Shyly, she smiled down at him, uncertainty unable to overcome the hope she dared not dream of, the adoration she had held for him. She looked at me, "Our own beloved city lies in ruins."

"Look again," I smiled slightly, "Your guardian spirits have awoken."

She did look; how I knew I wasn't certain. I still felt the tree; something of it touched me. "Drow!" She hissed, hatred touching her; had she learnt nothing?

"My queen…" Haltingly, Joneleth spoke, "I see no drow…"

He was right; he saw what I had. With the manifestation of the guardian spirits, the tree's manifestations of the elven pantheon had stopped the host in their tracks. Weapons began to fall from hands, naked awe washing over them as the spirits began to sing, reminding them of a long forgotten past, inviting them to a new future. In the presence of their ancient, rejected gods, the host began to kneel.

"Perhaps… perhaps you are not the only one to return home this day, my love."


	87. An Accounting, An Accord, part 6

The taint… was gone.

Mercy…

Had I been shown mercy?

I reached deep inside; my heart sank. It was not gone, it still waited, lurking, but it had been stilled, silenced. A seal had been placed over it; a seal of my own making, a gift from the elven gods. The taint had been suppressed; Bodhi's curse removed. The pangs of hunger, the thirst was gone.

I was restored.

The tree dropped two nuts; its fruit, life giving, restoring. I placed them in my belt purse.

High above, a dragon roared.

I was not the only one who had been restored.


	88. An Accounting, An Accord, part 7

"So, little brother, you released the wyrm, eh?"

I nodded distracted; Imoen cocked her head to one side, "Guess you can still hear him, huh? I can, if I concentrate."

"He's got a new home, and a renewed purpose in life. I think he'll honour his debt to Nalia, Iltha and Gerran."

"So I guess it turned out all right for everyone after all." She prodded me, "Even the drow. Those that didn't flee. Where'd Irenicus get them from anyway? And don't say 'The Underdark?'; how'd he get there? From Spellhold?"

I smiled slightly, "You tell me. I was out of it, remember?"

"Yeah… always sleepin' you are."

"Edwin told me the inmates feared the dragon, and fled. Most took their freedom and descended on the rest of the isle."

"Yup. The town was in for a real shocker; pity we didn't get to see it. Don't look so bad, the town was filled with pirates; they got what was comin' to 'em. 'Sides, you can't save everybody, so cheer up. We won, remember?"

"I guess… everything really did turn out all right."

"Well, maybe not Jaheira or Minsc…"

I gave her a long look.

She giggled, "I guess that tree really is something. Who'd have thunk it; my little brother makin' demands of those big bad elf gods."

"They weren't all bad." I didn't quite know why I was defending them; the gentle understanding, that smile… "Well, one anyway."

"Oh ho, what's this? Has my little brother got a crush on a goddess?"

"I never said she was a her!"

"Just did!"

"Well, what about Korgan?"

"Eh, once they got him cleaned up…"

I sighed. "So no one died, and you made me think…"

"Kinda hard when you keep on y'know, _bringing them back_."

I folded my arms; she giggled again, then sobered. "Well, I guess all those people who got killed in the fighting…"

"Here and in Athkatla." Laurel… what power I had hadn't been enough to save her.

"Yeah… that's really sad, but you did good. I'm proud of you, little brother."

Smiling, I kissed her, "I love you too, Immy."

"So what did the elf queenie want with ya anyway?"

Her words recalled themselves, and I stepped into the waking dream, then yanked Imoen in with me. I hushed her as she made an 'oooo' sound; being able to watch the memory intrigued her a little too much.

 _"You… you chose this… mercy knowingly?" Ellesime studied me._

 _"Anything else would have ended in hell – it has to end somewhere."_

"Aww, all grown up–"

"Imoen!"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Did you want to hear the rest or not?"

"Hush up and tell me already!"

 _"You… what sort of Bhaalspawn are you?"_

 _"One,"_ I smiled, and looked at my sister, and my friends, _"Who is loved."_

From afar, I watched as Khalid and Jaheira embraced, and Dynaheir held a tearful Minsc, who then thundered, "HEAR THAT EVIl?! _MINSC HAS GOT HIS WITCH BACK_!"

On his shoulder, the orange rat squeaked in agreement.


	89. Epilogue

Epilogue

What is strength? The power to change your world? The power to protect your loved ones? The power to go on when everything is arrayed against you, when you have nothing left, to keep hope alive? Is it the power to kill, to destroy; to take life, the lives of those who would take yours? Is it the power to create, to turn foes to your cause? To inspire others, to have them follow you, to conquer the world?

Or is it something else?

If all of this is possible in life, what is death?

The skull would have us believe death is a step up from life; that death is the ultimate, and murder the strongest form of death. The strength to steal, to possess. What use is possession from the grave? Life conquers death, just as light overcomes dark; the moving shadow snuffs out nothing, but light holds back the dark. Murder – that snuffs out life, but the debt mounts. Foes become myriad. Vendettas, vengeance; not even a god could stand: Bhaal was cut down by his foes.

Everything the skull says is a lie.

In the end, you murder yourself.

The skull whispers, but its lies are defeated; truth has shown it for what it is. To be found in the image of death is to become it; to become murder means being murdered. And once you are dead, where is life? It has been taken from you.

So the dream ends, and the skull screams in fury. Others have been seduced by the lies, embraced the thrill, the lust of killing; their callous neglect of friends, of family, of the strongest bonds of all. Their perversion of deepest blood, drawn to kill those closest to them, most like them, and in doing so, themselves; they are the victims. I understand now. Somehow, I have always known.

This is the legacy I was raised for; this is my legacy to the realms.

If you keep your eyes on the future, and lose sight of everything else around, you have already lost.

Every living thing fears death on some level, but those that love death fear life, fear living.

I am not the son of Murder; I am the son of life.

—

My eyes snapped open; I awoke from the dream gasping. _They are coming._

…

End of Part 2


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